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THE   COMEDY  OF  HUMAN  LIFE 
By  H.  DE  BALZAC 


SCENES    FROM    PROVINCIAL    LIFE 
PIERRETTE 

AND 

THE  VICAR   OF   TOURS 


BALZAC'S     NOVELS. 

Translated  by  Miss  K.  P.  Wormeley. 


Already  Published: 
PEEE     GORIOT. 
DUCHESSE     DE     LANGEAIS. 
RISE  AND  PALL  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 
EUGENIE     GRANDET. 
COUSIN     PONS. 
THE     COUNTRY     DOCTOR 
THE     TWO     BROTHERS. 
THE    ALKAHEST. 
MODESTE    MIGNON. 
THE  MAGIC   SKIN  (Peau  de  Chagrin). 
COUSIN     BETTE. 
LOUIS     LAMBERT. 
BUREAUCRACY  (Les  Employes). 
SERAPHITA. 
SONS    OP    THE    SOIL. 
FAME    AND    SORROW. 
THE   LILY   OF   THE    VALLEY. 
URSULA. 

AN   HISTORICAL   MYSTERY. 
ALBERT    SAVARUS. 
BALZAC  :    A  MEMOIR. 
PIERRETTE. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    Publishers, 
BOSTON. 


HONORE    DE    BALZAC 

TRANSLATED     BY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WORMELEY 


PIERRETTE 


ROBERTS     BROTHERS 


3     SOMERSET     STREET 


BOSTON 
1892 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 

S3  ft*/- 


dm'iraitg  fJrtss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


PIERRETTE. 

CHAPTEK  TAGE 

I.     The  Lorrains 2 

II.     The  Rogrons 20 

III.  Pathology  of  Retired  Mercers  ....  38 

IV.  Pierrette  .     .    <  ,  .     .  , 73 

V.    History  of  Poor  Cousins  in  the  Homes 

of  Rich  Ones 95 

VI.     An  Old  Maid's  Jealousy 117 

VII.     Domestic  Tyranny 143 

VIII.     The  Loves  of  Jacques  and  Pierrette    .  162 

IX.     The  Family  Council 192 

X.     Verdicts  —  Legal  and  Other 208 


THE   VICAR  OF   TOURS 227 


UNIVERSITY 

:ebeeti  e. 


To  Mademoiselle  Anna  Hanska: 

Dear  Child,  —  You,  the  joy  of  the  household,  you, 

whose  pink  or  white  pelerine  flutters  in  summer  among 

the  groves   of  Wierzschovnia   like  a  will-o'-the-wisp, 

followed  b}^  the  tender  eyes  of  your  father  and  your 

mother,  —  how  can  I  dedicate  to  you  a  story  full  of 

melancholy  ?    And  yet,  ought  not  sorrows  to  be  spoken 

of  to  a  young  girl  idolized  as  you  are,  since  the  day 

may  come  when  your  sweet  hands  will  be  called  to 

minister  to  them?    It  is   so  difficult,  Anna,  to  find 

in  the  history  of  our  manners  and  morals  a  subject 

that  is  worthy  of  j^our  eyes,  that  no  choice  has  been 

left  me ;    but  perhaps  you  will   be  made  to  feel  how 

fortunate  your  fate  is  when  you  read  the  story  sent 

to  you  by 

Your  old  friend, 

De  Balzac. 


Pierrette. 


THE    LORRAINS. 

At  the  dawn  of  an  October  day  in  1827  a  young 
fellow  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  whose  clothing  pro- 
claimed what  modern  phraseology  so  insolently  calls 
a  proletary,  was  standing  in  a  small  square  of  Lower 
Provins.  At  that  early  hour  he  could  examine  without 
being  observed  the  various  houses  surrounding  the 
open  space,  which  was  oblong  in  form.  The  mills 
along  the  river  were  already  working;  the  whirr  of 
their  wheels,  repeated  by  the  echoes  of  the  Upper 
Town  in  the  keen  air  and  sparkling  clearness  of  the 
early  morning,  only  intensified  the  general  silence  so 
that  the  wheels  of  a  diligence  could  be  heard  a  league 
away  along  the  highroad.  The  two  longest  sides  of 
the  square,  separated  by  an  avenue  of  lindens,  were 
built  in  the  simple  style  which  expresses  so  well  the 
peaceful  and  matter-of-fact  life  of  the  bourgeoisie. 
No  signs  of  commerce  were  to  be  seen ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  luxurious  porte-cocheres  of  the  rich  were 
few,  and  those  few  turned  seldom  on  their  hinges,  ex- 
cepting that  of  Monsieur  Martener,  a  physician,  whose 


Pierrette.  3 

profession  obliged  him  to  keep  a  cabriolet,  and  to 
use  it.  A  few  of  the  house-fronts  were  covered  hy 
grape  vines,  others  by  roses  climbing  to  the  second- 
story,  windows,  through  which  they  wafted  the  fra- 
grance of  their  scattered  bunches.  One  end  of  the 
square  enters  the  main  street  of  the  Lower  Town, 
the  gardens  of  which  reach  to  the  bank  of  one  of  the 
two  rivers  which  water  the  valley  of  Provins.  The 
other  end  of  the  square  enters  a  street  which  runs 
parallel  to  the  main  street. 

At  the  latter,  which  was  also  the  quietest  end  of 
the  square,  the  young  workman  recognized  the  house 
of  which  he  was  in  search,  which  showed  a  front  of 
white  stone  grooved  in  lines  to  represent  courses,  win- 
dows with  closed  gray  blinds,  and  slender  iron  bal- 
conies decorated  with  rosettes  painted  yellow.  Above 
the  ground  floor  and  the  first  floor  were  three  dormer 
windows  projecting  from  a  slate  roof;  on  the  peak 
of  the  central  one  was  a  new  weather-vane.  This 
modern  innovation  represented  a  hunter  in  the  attitude 
of  shooting  a  hare.  The  front  door  was  reached  by 
three  stone  steps.  On  one  side  of  this  door  a  leaden 
pipe  discharged  the  sink-water  into  a  small  street- 
gutter,  showing  the  whereabouts  of  the  kitchen.  On 
the  other  side  were  two  windows,  carefully  closed 
by  gray  shutters  in  which  were  heart-shaped  openings 
cut  to  admit  the  light;   these  windows  seemed  to  be 


4  Pierrette. 

those  of  the  dining-room.  In  the  elevation  gained 
by  the  three  steps  were  vent-holes  to  the  cellar,  closed 
by  painted  iron  shutters  fantastically  cut  in  open-work. 
Everything  was  new.  In  this  repaired  and  restored 
house,  the  fresh-colored  look  of  which  contrasted  with 
the  time-worn  exteriors  of  all  the  other  houses,  an 
observer  would  instantly  perceive  the  paltry  taste  and 
perfect  self-satisfaction  of  the  retired  petty  shop- 
keeper. 

The  young  man  looked  at  these  details  with  an 
expression  of  pleasure  that  seemed  to  have  something 
rather  sad  in  it ;  his  eyes  roved  from  the  kitchen 
to  the  roof,  with  a  motion  that  showed  a  deliberate 
purpose.  The  rosy  glow  of  the  rising  sun  fell  on  a 
calico  curtain  at  one  of  the  garret  windows,  the  others 
being  without  that  luxury.  As  he  caught  sight  of  it 
the  young  fellow's  face  brightened  gayly.  He  stepped 
back  a  little  way,  leaned  against  a  linden,  and  sang, 
in  the  drawling  tone  peculiar  to  the  west  of  France, 
the  following  Breton  ditty,  published  by  Bruguiere,  a 
composer  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  many  charm- 
ing melodies.  In  Brittany,  the  young  villagers  sing 
this  song  to  all  newly-married  couples  on  their  wedding- 
day:— 

m  -ype  >ve  come  to  wish  you  happiness  in  marriage, 
To  m'sieur  your  husband 
As  well  as  to  you : 


Pierrette.  5 

*  You  have  just  been  bound,  madam'  la  mariee, 

With  bonds  of  gold 
That  only  death  unbinds : 

"  You  will  go  no  more  to  balls  or  gay  assemblies ; 
You  must  stay  at  home 
While  we  shall  go. 

*  Have  you  thought  well  how  you  are  pledged  to  be 

True  to  your  spouse, 

And  love  him  like  yourself? 

"  Receive  these  flowers  our  hands  do  now  present  you ; 
Alas  !  your  fleeting  honors 
Will  fade  as  they." 

This  native  air  (as  sweet  as  that  adapted  by  Chateau- 
briand to  Ma  soeur,  te  souvient-il  encore) ,  sung  in  this 
little  town  of  the  Brie  district,  must  have  been  to 
the  ears  of  a  Breton  maiden  the  touchstone  of  imperious 
memories,  so  faithfully  does  it  picture  the  manners 
and  customs,  the  surroundings  and  the  heartiness  of 
her  noble  old  land,  where  a  sort  of  melancholy  reigns, 
hardly  to  be  denned ;  caused,  perhaps,  by  the  aspect 
of  life  in  Brittany,  which  is  deeply  touching.  This 
power  of  awakening  a  world  of  grave  and  sweet  and 
tender  memories  by  a  familiar  and  sometimes  lively 
ditty,  is  the  privilege  of  those  popular  songs  which  are 
the  superstitions  of  music,  —  if  we  may  use  the  word 
"superstition"  as  signifying  all  that  remains  after  the 
ruin  of  a  people,  all  that  survives  their  revolutions. 


6  Pierrette. 

As  he  finished  the  first  couplet,  the  singer,  who 
never  took  his  eyes  from  the  attic  curtain,  saw  no 
signs  of  life.  While  he  sang  the  second,  the  curtain 
stirred.  When  the  words  "Receive  these  flowers" 
were  sung,  a  youthful  face  appeared;  a  white  hand 
cautiously  opened  the  casement,  and  a  girl  made  a 
sign  with  her  head  to  the  singer  as  he  ended  with  the 
melancholy  thought  of  the  simple  verses,  —  "Alas! 
your  fleeting  honors  will  fade  as  they." 

To  her  the  young  workman  suddenly  showed,  draw- 
ing it  from  within  his  jacket,  a  yellow  flower,  very 
common  in  Brittany,  and  sometimes  to  be  found  in 
La  Brie  (where,  however,  it  is  rare),  —  the  furze,  or 
broom. 

"Is  it  really  you,  Brigaut?"  said  the  girl,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  Yes,  Pierrette,  yes.  I  am  in  Paris.  I  have 
started  to  make  my  way ;  but  I  'm  ready  to  settle 
here,  near  you." 

Just  then  the  fastening  of  a  window  creaked  in  a 
room  on  the  first  floor,  directly  below  Pierrette's  attic. 
The  girl  showed  the  utmost  terror,  and  said  to  Brigaut, 
quickly :  — 

"Run  away!" 

The  lad  jumped  like  a  frightened  frog  to  a  bend 
in  the  street  caused  by  the  projection  of  a  mill  just 
where  the  square  opens  into  the  main  thoroughfare ; 


Pierrette.  7 

but  in  spite  of  his  haste  his  hob-nailed  shoes  echoed 
on  the  stones  with  a  sound  easily  distinguished  from 
the  music  of  the  mill,  and  no  doubt  heard  by  the 
person  who  opened  the  window. 

That  person  was  a  woman.  No  man  would  have 
torn  himself  from  the  comfort  of  a  morning  nap  to 
listen  to  a  minstrel  in  a  jacket;  none  but  a  maid 
awakes  to  songs  of  love.  Not  only  was  this  woman  a 
maid,  but  she  was  an  old  maid.  When  she  had  opened 
her  blinds  with  the  furtive  motion  of  a  bat,  she  looked 
in  all  directions,  but  saw  nothing,  and  only  heard, 
faintly,  the  flying  footfalls  of  the  lad.  Can  there  be 
anything  more  dreadful  than  the  matutinal  apparition 
of  an  ugly  old  maid  at  her  window?  Of  all  the 
grotesque  sights  which  amuse  the  eyes  of  travellers 
in  country  towns,  that  is  the  most  unpleasant.  It 
is  too  repulsive  to  laugh  at.  This  particular  old  maid, 
whose  ear  was  so  keen,  was  denuded  of  all  the  ad- 
ventitious aids,  of  whatever  kind,  which  she  employed 
as  embellishments ;  her  false  front  and  her  collarette 
were  lacking ;  she  wore  that  horrible  little  bag  of 
black  silk  with  which  old  women  insist  on  covering 
their  skulls,  and  it  was  now  revealed  beneath  the 
night-cap  which  had  been  pushed  aside  in  sleep.  This 
rumpled  condition  gave  a  menacing  expression  to  the 
head,  such  as  painters  bestow  on  witches.  The  tem- 
ples, ears,  and  nape  of  the  neck,  were  disclosed  in  all 


8  Pierrette. 

their  withered  horror,  —  the  wrinkles  being  marked  in 
scarlet  lines  that  contrasted  with  the  would-be  white 
of  the  bed-gown  which  was  tied  round  her  neck  by 
a  narrow  tape.  The  gaping  of  this  garment  revealed 
a  breast  to  be  likened  only  to  that  of  an  old  peasant 
woman  who  cares  nothing  about  her  personal  ugliness. 
The  fleshless  arm  was  like  a  stick  on  which  a  bit 
of  stuff  was  hung.  Seen  at  her  window,  this  spinster 
seemed  tall  from  the  length  and  angularity  of  her 
face,  which  recalled  the  exaggerated  proportions  of 
certain  Swiss  heads.  The  character  of  her  counte- 
nance—  the  features  being  marked  by  a  total  want 
of  harmon3T  —  was  that  of  hardness  in  the  lines,  sharp- 
ness in  the  tones ;  while  an  unfeeling  spirit,  pervad- 
ing all,  would  have  filled  a  physiognomist  with  dis- 
gust. These  characteristics,  fully  visible  at  this  mo- 
ment, were  usually  modified  in  public  by  a  sort  of 
commercial  smile,  —  a  bourgeois  smirk  which  mimicked 
good-humor;  so  that  persons  meeting  with  this  old 
maid  might  very  well  take  her  for  a  kindly  woman. 
She  owned  the  house  on  shares  with  her  brother.  The 
brother,  by-the-bye,  was  sleeping  so  tranquilly  in  his 
own  chamber  that  the  orchestra  of  the  Opera-house 
could  not  have  wakened  him,  wonderful  as  its  diapason 
is  said  to  be. 

The  old  maid  stretched  her  neck  out  of  the  window, 
twisted  it,  and  raised  her  cold,  pale- blue  little  ej'es, 


Pierrette.  9 

with  their  short  lashes  set  in  lids  that  were  always 
rather  swollen,  to  the  attic  window,  endeavoring  to 
see  Pierrette.  Perceiving  the  uselessness  of  that  at- 
tempt, she  retreated  into  her  room  with  a  movement 
like  that  of  a  tortoise  which  draws  in  its  head  after 
protruding  it  from  its  carapace.  The  blinds  were  then 
closed,  and  the  silence  of  the  street  was  unbroken 
except  by  peasants  coming  in  from  the  country,  or 
very  early  persons  moving  about. 

When  there  is  an  old  maid  in  a  house,  watch-dogs 
are  unnecessary ;  not  the  slightest  event  can  occur 
that  she  does  not  see  and  comment  upon  and  pursue 
to  its  utmost  consequences.  The  foregoing  trifling 
circumstance  was  therefore  destined  to  give  rise  to 
grave  suppositions,  and  to  open  the  way  for  one  of 
those  obscure  dramas  which  take  place  in  families, 
and  are  none  the  less  terrible  because  they  are  se- 
cret,—  if,  indeed,  we  may  apply  the  word  "drama" 
to  such  domestic  occurrences. 

Pierrette  did  not  go  back  to  bed.  To  her,  Brigaut's 
arrival  was  an  immense  event.  During  the  night  — 
that  Eden  of  the  wretched  —  she  escaped  the  vexa- 
tions and  fault-findings  she  bore  during  the  day.  Like 
the  hero  of  a  ballad,  German  or  Russian,  I  forget 
which,  her  sleep  seemed  to  her  the  happy  life ;  her 
waking  hours  a  bad  dream.  She  had  just  had  her 
only  pleasurable  waking  in  three  years.     The  memo- 


10  Pierrette. 

ries  of  her  childhood  had  sung  their  melodious  ditties 
in  her  soul.  The  first  couplet  was  heard  in  a  dream ; 
the  second  made  her  spring  out  of  bed ;  at  the  third, 
she  doubted  her  ears,  —  the  sorrowful  are  all  disciples 
of  Saint  Thomas ;  but  when  the  fourth  was  sung, 
standing  in  her  night-gown  with  bare  feet  by  the 
window,  she  recognized  Brigaut,  the  companion  of 
her  childhood.  Ah,  yes !  it  was  truly  the  well-known 
square  jacket  with  the  bobtails,  the  pockets  of  which 
stuck  out  at  the  hips,  —  the  jacket  of  blue  cloth  which 
is  classic  in  Brittany ;  there,  too,  were  the  waistcoat 
of  printed  cotton,  the  linen  shirt  fastened  by  a  gold 
heart,  the  large  rolling  collar,  the  earrings,  the  stout 
shoes,  the  trousers  of  blue-gray  drilling  unevenly  col- 
ored by  the  various  lengths  of  the  warp,  —  in  short, 
all  those  humble,  strong,  and  durable  things  which 
make  the  apparel  of  the  Breton  peasantry.  The  big 
buttons  of  white  horn  which  fastened  the  jacket  made 
the  girl's  heart  beat.  When  she  saw  the  bunch  of 
broom  her  eyes  filled  with  tears ;  then  a  dreadful  fear 
drove  back  into  her  heart  the  happy  memories  that 
were  budding  there.  She  thought  her  cousin  sleeping 
in  the  room  beneath  her  might  have  heard  the  noise  she 
made  in  jumping  out  of  bed  and  running  to  the  window. 
The  fear  was  just ;  the  old  maid  was  coming,  and  she 
made  Brigaut  the  terrified  sign  which  the  lad  obeyed 
without  the  least  understanding  it.     Such  instinctive 


Pierrette.  11 

submission  to  a  girl's  bidding  shows  one  of  those 
innocent  and  absolute  affections  which  appear  from 
century  to  century  on  this  earth,  where  they  blossom, 
like  the  aloes  of  Isola  Bella,  twice  or  thrice  in  a 
hundred  years.  Whoever  had  seen  the  lad  as  he  ran 
away  would  have  loved  the  ingenuous  chivalry  of  his 
most  ingenuous  feeling. 

Jacques  Brigaut  was  worthy  of  Pierrette  Lorrain, 
who  was  just  fifteen.  Two  children  !  Pierrette  could 
not  keep  from  crying  as  she  watched  his  flight  in 
the  terror  her  gesture  had  conveyed  to  him.  Then 
she  sat  down  in  a  shabby  armchair  placed  before  a 
little  table  above  which  hung  a  mirror.  She  rested 
her  elbows  on  the  table,  put  her  head  in  her  hands, 
and  sat  thinking  for  an  hour,  calling  to  memory  the 
Marais,  the  village  of  Pen-Hoel,  the  perilous  voyages 
on  a  pond  in  a  boat  untied  for  her  from  an  old  willow 
by  little  Jacques;  then  the  old  faces  of  her  grand- 
father and  grandmother,  the  sufferings  of  her  mother, 
and  the  handsome  face  of  Major  Brigaut,  —  in  short, 
the  whole  of  her  careless  childhood.  It  was  all  a 
dream,  a  luminous  joy  on  the  gloomy  background  of 
the  present. 

Her  beautiful  chestnut  hair  escaped  in  disorder  from 
her  cap,  rumpled  in  sleep,  —  a  cambric  cap  with  ruffles, 
which  she  had  made  herself.  On  each  side  of  her 
forehead  were  little  ringlets  escaping  from  gray  curl- 


12  Pierrette. 

papers.  From  the  back  of  her  head  hung  a  heavy 
braid  of  hair  that  was  half  unplaited.  The  excessive 
whiteness  of  her  face  betrayed  that  terrible  malady 
of  girlhood  which  goes  by  the  name  of  chlorosis,  de- 
prives the  body  of  its  natural  colors,  destroys  the 
appetite,  and  shows  a  disordered  state  of  the  organism. 
The  waxy  tones  were  in  all  the  visible  parts  of  her 
flesh.  The  neck  and  shoulders  explained  by  their 
blanched  paleness  the  wasted  arms,  flung  forward  and 
crossed  upon  the  table.  Her  feet  seemed  enervated, 
shrunken  from  illness.  Her  night-gown  came  only  to 
her  knees  and  showed  the  flaccid  muscles,  the  blue 
veins,  the  impoverished  flesh  of  the  legs.  The  cold, 
to  which  she  paid  no  heed,  turned  her  lips  violet, 
and  a  sad  smile,  drawing  up  the  corners  of  a  sensitive 
mouth,  showed  teeth  that  were  white  as  ivory  and 
quite  small,  —  pretty,  transparent  teeth,  in  keeping 
with  the  delicate  ears,  the  rather  sharp  but  dainty 
nose,  and  the  general  outline  of  her  face,  which,  in 
spite  of  its  roundness,  was  lovely.  All  the  animation 
of  this  charming  face  was  in  the  eyes,  the  iris  of 
which,  brown  like  Spanish  tobacco  and  flecked  with 
black,  shone  with  golden  reflections  round  pupils  that 
were  brilliant  and  intense.  Pierrette  was  made  to  be 
gay,  but  she  was  sad.  Her  lost  gayety  was  still  to  be 
seen  in  the  vivacious  forms  of  the  eye,  in  the  ingenuous 
grace  of  her  brow,  in  the  smooth  curve  of  her  chin. 


Pierrette.  13 

The  long  eyelashes  lay  upon  the  cheek-bones,  made 
prominent  by  suffering.  The  paleness  of  her  face, 
which  was  unnaturally  white,  made  the  lines  and  all 
the  details  infinitely  pure.  The  ear  alone  was  a  little 
masterpiece  of  modelling,  —  in  marble,  you  might  say. 
Pierrette  suffered  in  many  ways.  Perhaps  you  would 
like  to  know  her  history,  and  this  is  it. 

Pierrette's  mother  was  a  Demoiselle  Auffray  of 
Provins,  half-sister  by  the  father's  side  of  Madame 
Eogron,  mother  of  the  present  owners  of  the  house. 

Monsieur  Auffray,  her  husband,  had  married  at  the 
age  of  eighteen ;  his  second  marriage  took  place  when 
he  was  nearly  sixty-nine.  By  the  first,  he  had  an 
only  daughter,  very  plain,  who  was  married  at  sixteen 
to  an  innkeeper  of  Provins  named  Rogron. 

By  his  second  marriage  the  worthy  Auffray  had 
another  daughter ;  but  this  one  was  charming.  There 
was,  of  course,  an  enormous  difference  in  the  ages 
of  these  daughters ;  the  one  by  the  first  marriage 
was  fifty  years  old  when  the  second  child  was  born. 
By  this  time  the  eldest,  Madame  Rogron,  had  two 
grown-up   children. 

The  youngest  daughter  of  the  old  man  was  married 
at  eighteen  to  the  man  of  her  choice,  a  Breton  officer 
named  Lorrain,  captain  in  the  Imperial  Guard.  Love 
often  makes  a  man  ambitious.  The  captain,  anxious 
to  rise  to  a  colonelc}7,  exchanged  into  a  line  regiment. 


14  Pierrette. 

While  he,  then  a  major,  and  his  wife  enjoyed  them- 
selves in  Paris  on  the  allowance  made  to  them  by 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Auffray,  or  scoured  Germany  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  the  Emperor's  battles  and  truces, 
old  Auffray  himself  (formerly  a  grocer)  died,  at  the 
age  of  eighty-eight,  without  having  found  time  to  make 
a  will.  His  property  was  administered  by  his  daughter, 
Madame  Rogron,  and  her  husband  so  completely  in 
their  own  interests  that  nothing  remained  for  the 
old  man's  widow  beyond  the  house  she  lived  in  on 
the  little  square,  and  a  few  acres  of  land.  This  widow, 
the  mother  of  Madame  Lorrain,  was  only  thirt3'-eight 
at  the  time  of  her  husband's  death.  Like  many  widows, 
she  came*  to  the  unwise  decision  of  remarrying.  She 
sold  the  house  and  land  to  her  step-daughter,  Madame 
Rogron,  and  married  a  young  physician  named  N£raud, 
who  wasted  her  whole  fortune.  She  died  of  grief  and  ^ 
misery  two  years  Tatert         <J*  >      ""*  v\ 

Thus  the  share  of  her  father's  property  which  ought 
to  have  come  to  Madame  Lorrain  disappeared  al- 
most entirely,  being  reduced  to  the  small  sum  of  eight 
thousand  francs.  M&JoH^  Lorrain  was  killed  at  the 
battle  of  Montereau,  leaving  his  wife,  then  twenty- 
one  years  of  age,*with  a  little  daughter  of  fourteen 
months,  and  no  c^Jrei"* means  than  the  pension  to  which 
she  was  entitled  and  an  eventual  inj^fitance  from  her 
late  husband's  parents,  Monsieur  and  Maxiame  Lorrain, 


Pierrette.  15 

retail  shop-keepers  at  Pen-Hoel,  a  village  in  Vendee, 
situated  in  that  part  of  it  which  is  called  the  Marais. 
These  Lorrains,  grandfather  and  grandmother  of  Pier- 
rette Lorrain,  sold  wood  for  building  purposes,  slates, 
tiles,  pantiles,  pipes,  etc.  Their  business,  either  from 
their  own  incapacity  or  through  ill-luck,  did  badly,  and 
gave  them  scarcely  enough  to  live  on.  The  failure 
of  the  well-known  firm  of  Colinet  at  Nantes,  caused 
by  the  events  of  1814  which  led  to  a  sudden  fall  in 
colonial  products,  deprived  them  of  twenty-four  thou- 
sand francs  which  they  had  just  deposited  with  that 
house. 

The  arrival  of  their  daughter-in-law  was  therefore 
welcome  to  them.  Her  pension  of  eight  hundred 
francs  was  a  handsome  income  at  Pen-Hoel.  The 
eight  thousand  francs  which  the  widow's  half-brother 
and  sister  Rogron  sent  to  her  from  her  father's  estate 
(after  a  multitude  of  legal  formalities)  were  placed 
by  her  in  the  Lorrains'  business,  they  giving  her  a 
mortgage  on  a  little  house  which  they  owned  at 
Nantes,  let  for  three  hundred  francs,  and  barely  worth 
ten  thousand. 

Madame  Lorrain  the  younger,  Pierrette's  mother, 
died  in  1819.  The  child  of  old  Auffray  and  his  young 
wife  was  small,  delicate,  and  weakty ;  the  damp  cli- 
mate of  the  Marais  did  not  agree  with  her.  But  her 
husband's  family  persuaded  her,  in  order  to  keep  her 


16  Pierrette. 

with  them,  that  in  no  other  quarter  of  the  world  could 
she  find  a  more  healthy  region.  She  was  so  petted 
and  tenderly  cared  for  that  her  death,  when  it  came, 
brought  nothing  but  honor  to  the  old  Lorrains. 

Some  persons  declared  that  Brigaut,  an  old  Ven- 
d£en,  one  of  those  men  of  iron  who  served  under 
Charette,  under  Mercier,  under  the  Marquis  de  Mon- 
tauran,  and  the  Baron  du  Guenic,  in  the  wars  against 
the  Republic,  counted  for  a  good  deal  in  the  willing- 
ness of  the  younger  Madame  Lorrain  to  remain  in 
the  Marais.  If  it  were  so,  his  soul  must  have  been 
a  truly  loving  and  devoted  one.  All  Pen-Hoel  saw 
him  —  he  was  called  respectfully  Major  Brigaut,  the 
grade  he  had  held  in  the  Catholic  arm}7 — spending 
his  da}'s  and  his  evenings  in  the  Lorrains'  parlor, 
beside  the  widow  of  the  imperial  major.  Toward  the 
last,  the  curate  of  Pen-Hoel  made  certain  represen- 
tations to  old  Madame  Lorrain,  begging  her  to  per- 
suade her  daughter-in-law  to  marry  Brigaut,  and  prom- 
ising to  have  the  major  appointed  justice  of  peace  for 
the  canton  of  Pen-Hoel,  through  the  influence  of  the 
Vicomte  de  Kergarouet.  The  death  of  the  poor  young 
woman  put  an  end  to  the  matter. 

Pierrette  was  left  in  charge  of  her  grandparents 
who  owed  her  four  hundred  francs  a  year,  interest  on 
the  little  property  placed  in  their  hands.  This  small 
sum  was  now  applied  to  her  maintenance.     The  old 


Pierrette.  17 

people,  who  were  growing  less  and  less  fit  for  business, 
soon  found  themselves  confronted  by  an  active  and 
capable  competitor,  against  whom  they  said  hard 
things,  all  the  while  doing  nothing  to  defeat  him. 
Major  Brigaut,  their  friend  and  adviser,  died  six 
months  after  his  friend,  the  younger  Madame  Lorrain, 
—  perhaps  of  grief,  perhaps  of  his  wounds,  of  which 
he  had  received  twenty-seven. 

Like  a  sound  merchant,  the  competitor  set  about 
ruining  his  adversaries  in  order  to  get  rid  of  all  rivalry. 
With  his  connivance,  the  Lorrains  borrowed  money 
on  notes,  which  they  were  unable  to  meet,  and  which 
drove  them  in  their  old  days  into  bankruptcy.  Pier- 
rette's claim  upon  the  house  in  Nantes  was  superseded 
by  the  legal  rights  of  her  grandmother,  who  enforced 
them  to  secure  the  daily  bread  of  her  poor  husband. 
The  house  was  sold  for  nine  thousand  five  hundred 
francs,  of  which  one  thousand  five  hundred  went  for 
costs.  The  remaining  eight  thousand  francs  came  to 
Madame  Lorrain,  who  lived  upon  the  income  of  them 
in  a  sort  of  almshouse  at  Nantes,  like  that  of  Sainte- 
Perine  in  Paris,  called  Saint- Jacques,  where  the  two 
old  people  had  bed  and  board  for  a  humble  payment. 

As  it  was  impossible  to  keep  Pierrette,  their  ruined 
little  granddaughter,  with  them,  the  old  Lorrains  be- 
thought themselves  of  her  uncle  and  aunt  Rogron,  in 
Provins,  to  whom  they  wrote.     These  Rogrons  were 

UNIVERSITY 

£4UF0KH\b> 


18  Pierrette. 

dead.  The  letter  might,  therefore,  have  easily  been 
lost ;  but  if  anything  here  below  can  take  the  place  of 
Providence,  it  is  the  post.  Postal  spirit,  incomparably 
above  public  spirit,  exceeds  in  brillianc}'  of  resource 
and  invention  the  ablest  romance-writers.  When  the 
post  gets  hold  of  a  letter,  worth,  to  it,  from  three  to 
ten  sous,  and  does  not  immediately  know  where  to 
find  the  person  to  whom  that  letter  is  addressed,  it 
displays  a  financial  anxiety  only  to  be  met  with  in 
very  pertinacious  creditors.  The  post  goes  and  comes 
and  ferrets  through  all  the  eighty-six  departments. 
Difficulties  only  rouse  the  genius  of  the  clerks,  who 
may  really  be  called  men-of-letters,  and  who  set  about 
to  search  for  that  unknown  human  being  with  as  much 
ardor  as  the  mathematicians  of  the  Bureau  give  to 
longitudes.  They  literally  ransack  the  whole  king- 
dom. At  the  first  ray  of  hope  all  the  post-offices 
in  Paris  are  alert.  Sometimes  the  receiver  of  a  mis- 
sing letter  is  amazed  at  the  network  of  scrawled  di- 
rections which  covers  both  back  and  front  of  the 
missive,  —  glorious  vouchers  for  the  administrative 
persistency  with  which  the  post  has  been  at  work. 
If  a  man  undertook  what  the  post  accomplishes,  he 
would  lose  ten  thousand  francs  in  travel,  time,  and 
money,  to  recover  ten  sous.  The  letter  of  the  old 
Lorrains,  addressed  to  Monsieur  Rogron  of  Provins 
(who  had  then  been  dead  a  year)  was  conveyed  by 


Pierrette,  19 

the  post  in  due  time  to  Monsieur  Rogron,  son  of  the 
deceased,  a  mercer  in  the  rue  Saint-Denis  in  Paris. 
And  this  is  where  the  postal  spirit  obtains  its  greatest 
triumph.  An  heir  is  always  more  or  less  anxious  to 
know  if  he  has  picked  up  ever}r  scrap  of  his  inheritance, 
if  he  has  not  overlooked  a  credit,  or  a  trunk  of  old 
clothes.  The  Treasury  knows  that.  A  letter  addressed 
to  the  late  Rogron  at  Provins  was  certain  to  pique  the 
curiosity  of  Rogron,  Jr.,  or  Mademoiselle  Rogron,  the 
heirs  in  Paris.  Out  of  that  human  interest  the  Treas- 
ury was  able  to  earn  sixty  centimes. 

These  Rogrons,  toward  whom  the  old  Lorrains, 
though  dreading  to  part  with  their  dear  little  grand- 
daughter, stretched  their  supplicating  hands,  became, 
in  this  way,  and  most  unexpectedly,  the  masters  of 
Pierrette's  destiny.  It  is  therefore  indispensable  to 
explain  both  their  antecedents  and  their  character. 


20  Pierrette, 


n. 

THE  ROGRONS. 

Pere  Rogron,  that  innkeeper  of  Provins  to  whom 
old  Auffray  had  married  his  daughter  by  his  first  wife, 
was  an  individual  with  an  inflamed  face,  a  veiny  nose, 
and  cheeks  on  which  Bacchus  had  drawn  his  scarlet  and 
bulbous  vine-marks.  Though  short,  fat,  and  pot-bellied, 
with  stout  legs  and  thick  hands,  he  was  gifted  with  the 
shrewdness  of  the  Swiss  innkeepers,  whom  he  re- 
sembled. Certainly  he  was  not  handsome,  and  his  wife 
looked  like  him.  Never  was  a  couple  better  matched. 
Rogron  liked  good  living  and  to  be  waited  upon  by 
,pretty  girls.  He  belonged  to  the  class  of  egoists  whose 
behavior  is  brutal ;  he  gave  way  to  his  vices  and  did 
their  will  openly  in  the  face  of  Israel.  Grasping,  sel- 
fish, without  decency,  and  always  gratifying  his  own 
fancies,  he  devoured  his  earnings  until  the  day  when 
his  teeth  failed  him.  Selfishness  stayed  by  him.  In 
his  old  days  he  sold  his  inn,  collected  (as  we  have  seen) 
all  he  could  of  his  late  father-in-law's  property,  and  went 
to  live  in  the  little  house  in  the  square  of  Provins, 
bought  for  a  trifle  from  the  widow  of  old  Auffray, 
Pierrette's  grandmother. 


Pierrette.  21 

Kogron  and  his  wife  had  about  two  thousand  francs 
a  year  from  twenty-seven  lots  of  land  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Provins,  and  from  the  sale  of  their  inn  for 
twenty  thousand.  Old  Auffray's  house,  though  out  of 
repair,  was  inhabited  just  as  it  was  by  the  Rogrons,  — 
old  rats  like  wrack  and  ruin.  Rogron  himself  took  to 
horticulture  and  spent  his  savings  in  enlarging  the 
garden ;  he  carried  it  to  the  river's  edge  between  two 
walls  and  built  a  sort  of  stone  embankment  across  the 
end,  where  aquatic  nature,  left  to  herself,  displayed  the 
charms  of  her  flora. 

In  the  early  years  of  their  marriage  the  Rogrons 
had  a  son  and  a  daughter,  both  hideous  ;  for  such  human 
beings  degenerate.  Put  out  to  nurse  at  a  low  price, 
these  luckless  children  came  home  in  due  time,  after  the 
worst  of  village  training,  —  allowed  to  cry  for  hours  after 
their  wet-nurse,  who  worked  in  the  fields,  leaving  them 
shut  up  to  scream  for  her  in  one  of  those  damp,  dark,  low 
rooms  which  serve  as  homes  for  the  French  peasantry. 
Treated  thus,  the  features  of  the  children  coarsened ; 
their  voices  grew  harsh ;  they  mortified  their  mother's 
vanity,  and  that  made  her  strive  to  correct  their  bad 
habits  by  a  sternness  which  the  severity  of  their  father 
converted  through  comparison  to  kindness.  As  a 
general  thing,  they  were  left  to  run  loose  about  the 
stables  and  courtyards  of  the  inn,  or  the  streets  of  the 
town ;  sometimes  they  were  whipped ;  sometimes  the}' 


22  Pierrette. 

were  sent,  to  get  rid  of  them,  to  their  grandfather 
Auffray,  who  did  not  like  them.  The  injustice  the 
Rogrons  declared  the  old  man  did  to  their  children, 
justified  them  to  their  own  minds  in  taking  the  greater 
part  of  "  the  old  scoundrel's  "  property.  However, 
Rogron  did  send  his  son  to  school,  and  did  DU37  him  a 
man,  one  of  his  own  cartmen,  to  save  him  from  the 
conscription.  As  soon  as  his  daughter,  Sylvie,  was 
thirteen,  he  sent  her  to  Paris,  to  make  her  way  as  ap- 
prentice in  a  shop.  Two  years  later  he  despatched 
his  son,  Jerome-Denis,  to  the  same  career.  When  his 
friends  the  carriers  and  those  who  frequented  the  inn, 
asked  him  what  he  meant  to  do  with  his  children, 
Pere  Rogron  explained  his  system  with  a  conciseness 
which,  in  view  of  that  of  most  fathers,  had  the  merit  of 
frankness. 

"  When  they  are  old  enough  to  understand  me  I 
shall  give  'em  a  kick  and  say :  l  Go  and  make  your 
own  way  in  the  world ! '  "  he  replied,  emptying  his 
glass  and  wiping  his  lips  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 
Then  he  winked  at  his  questioner  with  a  knowing  look. 
"  Hey  !  hey  !  they  are  no  greater  fools  than  I  was,"  he 
added.  "  My  father  gave  me  three  kicks  ;  I  shall  only 
give  them  one ;  he  put  one  louis  into  my  hand  ;  I  shall 
put  ten  in  theirs,  therefore  they  '11  be  better  off  than  I 
was.  That 's  the  way  to  do.  After  I  'm  gone,  what 's 
left  will  be  theirs.     The  notaries  can  find  them  and  give 


Pierrette.  23 

it  to  them.    What  nonsense  to  bother  one's  self  about 
children.    Mine  owe  me  their  life.    I  've  fed  them,  and  I 
don't  ask  anything  from  them,  —  I  call  that  quits,  hey, 
neighbor?  I  began  as  a  cartman,  but  that  did  n't  prevent 
my  marrying  the  daughter  of  that  old  scoundrel  Auffray." 
Sylvie  Rogron  was  sent  (with  six  hundred  francs  for 
her  board)  as  apprentice  to  certain  shopkeepers  origi- 
nally from  Provins  and  now  settled  in  Paris  in  the  rue 
Saint-Denis.     Two  years  later  she  was    "  at  par,"  as 
they  say ;  she  earned  her  own  living ;  at  any  rate  her 
parents  paid  nothing  for  her.     That  is  what  is  called 
being  "  at  par"  in  the  rue  Saint-Denis.     Sylvie  had  a 
salary  of  four  hundred  francs.    At  nineteen  years  of 
age  she  was   independent.     At   twenty,    she   was   the 
second   demoiselle   in   the   Maison  Julliard,  wholesale 
silk  dealers  at  the  "  Chinese  Worm  "  rue  Saint-Denis. 
The   history  of  the   sister   was   that   of  the   brother. 
Young  Jerome-Denis  Rogron  entered  the  establishment 
of  one  of  the  largest  wholesale  mercers  in  the  same 
street,  the  Maison  Guepin,   at  the  "Three  Distaffs." 
When  Sylvie  Rogron,  aged  twenty-one,  had  risen  to  be 
forewoman  at  a  thousand  francs  a  year  Jerome-Denis, 
with  even  better  luck,  was  head-clerk  at  eighteen,  with 
a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  francs. 

Brother  and  sister  met  on  Sundays  and  fete-days, 
which  they  passed  in  economical  amusements ;  they 
dined  out  of  Paris,  and  went  to  Saint-Cloud,  Meudon, 


24  Pierrette. 

Belleville,  or  Vincennes.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
}Tear  1815  they  clubbed  their  savings,  amounting  to 
about  twenty  thousand  francs,  earned  by  the  sweat  of 
their  brows,  and  bought  of  Madame  Guenee  the  prop- 
erty and  good-will  of  her  celebrated  shop,  the  "  Family 
Sister,"  one  of  the  largest  retail  establishments  in  the 
quarter.  Sylvie  kept  the  books  and  did  the  writing. 
Jer6me  was  master  and  head-clerk  both.  In  1821, 
after  five  years'  experience,  competition  became  so 
fierce  that  it  was  all  the  brother  and  sister  could  do  to 
carry  on  the  business  and  maintain  its  reputation. 

Though  Sylvie  was  at  this  time  scarcely  forty,  her  nat- 
ural ugliness,  combined  with  hard  work  and  a  certain 
crabbed  look  (caused  as  much  by  the  conformation  of 
her  features  as  by  her  cares),  made  her  seem  like  a 
woman  of  fifty.  At  thirty-eight  J6r6me  Rogron  pre- 
sented to  the  eyes  of  his  customers  the  silliest  face  that 
ever  looked  over  a  counter.  His  retreating  forehead, 
flattened  by  fatigue,  was  marked  by  three  long  wrinkles. 
His  grizzled  hair,  cut  close,  expressed  in  some  indefin- 
able way  the  stupidity  of  a  cold-blooded  animal.  The 
glance  of  his  bluish  eyes  had  neither  flame  nor  thought 
in  it.  His  round,  flat  face  excited  no  sympathy,  nor 
even  a  laugh  on  the  lips  of  those  who  might  be  exam- 
ining the  varieties  of  the  Parisian  species  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  saddened  them.  He  was,  like  his  father,  short 
and  fat,  but  his  figure  lacked  the  tatter's  brutal  obesity, 


Pierrette.  25 

and  showed,  instead,  an  almost  ridiculous  debility.  His 
father's  high  color  was  changed  in  him  to  the  livid  flab- 
biness  peculiar  to  persons  who  live  in  close  back-shops, 
or  in  those  railed  cages  called  counting-rooms,  for- 
ever tying  up  bundles,  receiving  and  making  change, 
snarling  at  the  clerks,  and  repeating  the  same  old 
speeches  to  customers. 

The  small  amount  of  brains  possessed  by  the  brother 
and  sister  had  been  wholly  absorbed  in  maintaining 
their  business,  in  getting  and  keeping  money,  and  in 
learning  the  special  laws  and  usages  of  the  Parisian 
market.  Thread,  needles,  ribbons,  pins,  buttons,  tail- 
ors' furnishings,  in  short,  the  enormous  quantity  of 
things  which  go  to  make  up  a  mercer's  stock,  had 
taken  all  their  capacity.  Outside  of  their  business  they 
knew  absolutely  nothing ;  they  were  even  ignorant  of 
Paris.  To  them  the  great  city  was  merely  a  region 
spreading  around  the  Rue  Saint-Denis.  Their  narrow 
natures  could  see  no  field  except  the  shop.  They 
were  clever  enough  in  nagging  their  clerks  and  their 
young  women  and  in  proving  them  to  blame.  Their 
happiness  lay  in  seeing  all  hands  busy  at  the  counters, 
exhibiting  the  merchandise,  and  folding  it  up  again. 
When  they  heard  the  six  or  eight  voices  of  the  young 
mea  and  women  glibly  gabbling  the  consecrated  phrases 
by  which  clerks  reply  to  the  remarks  of  customers,  the 
day  was  fine  to  them,  the  weather  beautiful !     But  on 


26  Pierrette. 

the  really  fine  days,  when  the  blue  of  the  heavens 
brightened  all  Paris,  and  the  Parisians  walked  about 
to  enjoy  themselves  and  cared  for  no  "goods"  but 
those  they  carried  on  their  back,  the  da}7  was  overcast 
to  the  Rogrons.  "Bad  weather  for  sales,"  said  that 
pair  of  imbeciles. 

The  skill  with  which  Rogron  could  tie  up  a  parcel 
made  him  an  object  of  admiration  to  all  his  apprentices. 
He  could  fold  and  tie  and  see  all  that  happened  in  the 
street  and  in  the  farthest  recesses  of  the  shop  by  the 
time  he  handed  the  parcel  to  his  customer  with  a 
"Here  it  is,  madame ;  nothing  else  to-day?"  But  the 
poor  fool  would  have  been  ruined  without  his  sister. 
Sylvie  had  common-sense  and  a  genius  for  trade.  She 
advised  her  brother  in  their  purchases  and  would  piti- 
lessty  send  him  to  remote  parts  of  France  to  save  a 
trifle  of  cost.  The  shrewdness  which  all  women  more 
or  less  possess,  not  being  employed  in  the  service  of 
her  heart,  had  drifted  into  that  of  speculation.  A  busi- 
ness to  pay  for,  —  that  thought  was  the  mainspring 
which  kept  the  machine  going  and  gave  it  an  infernal 
activity. 

Rogron  was  really  onty  head-clerk ;  he  understood 
nothing  of  his  business  as  a  whole ;  self-interest,  that 
great  motor  of  the  mind,  had  failed  in  his  case  to  in- 
struct him.  He  was  often  aghast  when  his  sister 
ordered  some  article  to  be  sold  below  cost,  foreseeing 


Pierrette.  27 

the  end  of  its  fashion ;  later  he  admired  her  idiotically 
for  her  cleverness.  He  reasoned  neither  ill  nor  well ; 
he  was  simply  incapable  of  reasoning  at  all ;  but  he 
had  the  sense  to  subordinate  himself  to  his  sister,  and 
he  did  so  from  a  consideration  that  was  outside  of  the 
business.  "She  is  my  elder,"  he  said.  Perhaps  an 
existence  like  his,  always  solitary,  reduced  to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  mere  needs,  deprived  of  money  and  all 
pleasures  in  youth,  may  explain  to  physiologists  and 
thinkers  the  clownish  expression  of  the  face,  the  feeble- 
ness of  mind,  the  vacant  silliness  of  the  man.  His 
sister  had  steadily  prevented  him  from  marrying,  afraid 
perhaps  to  lose  her  power  over  him,  and  seeing  only 
a  source  of  expense  and  injury  in  some  woman  who 
would  certainly  be  younger  and  undoubtedly  less  ugly 
than  herself. 

Silliness  has  two  ways  of  comporting  itself;  it  talks, 
or  is  silent.  Silent  silliness  can  be  borne ;  but  Ro- 
gron's  silliness  was  loquacious.  The  man  had  a  habit 
of  chattering  to  his  clerks,  explaining  the  minutiae  of 
the  business,  and  ornamenting  his  talk  with  those 
flat  jokes  which  may  be  called  the  "chaff"  of  shop- 
keeping.  Rogron,  listened  to,  of  course,  by  his  sub- 
ordinates and  perfectly  satisfied  with  himself,  had 
come  at  last  into  possession  of  a  phraseology  of  his 
own.  This  chatterer  believed  himself  an  orator.  The 
necesshy  of  explaining  to  customers  what  they  want, 


28  Pierrette. 

of  guessing  at  their  desires,  and  giving  them  desires 
for  what  they  do  not  want,  exercises  the  tongue  of 
all  retail  shop-keepers.  The  petty  dealer  acquires  the 
faculty  of  uttering  words  and  sentences  in  which  there 
is  absolutely  no  meaning,  but  which  have  a  marked 
success.  He  explains  to  his  customers  matters  of 
manufacture  that  they  know  nothing  of;  that  alone 
gives,  him  a  passing  superiority  over  them ;  but  take 
him  away  from  his  thousand  and  one  explanations 
about  his  thousand  and  one  articles,  and  he  is,  rela- 
tively to  thought,  like  a  fish  out  of  water  in  the  sun. 

Rogron  and  Sylvie,  two  mechanisms  baptized  by 
mistake,  did  not  possess,  latent  or  active,  the  feelings 
which  give  life  to  the  heart.  Their  natures  were  shriv- 
elled and  harsh,  hardened  by  toil,  by  privation,  by 
the  remembrance  of  their  sufferings  during  a  long  and 
cruel  apprenticeship  to  life.  Neither  of  them  com- 
plained of  their  trials.  They  were  not  so  much  im- 
placable as  impracticable  in  their  dealings  with  others 
in  misfortune.  To  them,  virtue,  honor,  loyalty,  all 
human  sentiments  consisted  solely  in  the  payment  of 
their  bills.  Irritable  and  irritating,  without  feelings, 
and  sordid  in  their  economy,  the  brother  and  sister 
bore  a  dreadful  reputation  among  the  other  merchants 
of  the  rue  Saint- Denis.  Had  it  not  been  for  their 
connection  with  Provins,  where  they  went  three  or 
four   times   a  year,  when  they  could   close   the   shop 


Pierrette.  29 

for  a  day  or  two,  they  would  have  had  no  clerks  or 
young  women.  But  old  Rogron,  their  father,  sent  them 
all  the  unfortunate  young  people  of  his  neighborhood, 
whose  parents  wished  to  start  them  in  business  in  Paris. 
He  obtained  these  apprentices  by  boasting,  out  of  vanity, 
of  his  son's  success.  Parents,  attracted  by  the  prospect 
of  their  children  being  well-trained  and  closely  watched, 
and  also,  by  the  hope  of  their  succeeding,  eventual^, 
to  the  business,  sent  whichever  child  was  most  in  the 
way  at  home  to  the  care  of  the  brother  and  sister. 
But  no  sooner  had  the  clerks  or  the  young  Women 
found  a  way  of  escape  from  that  dreadful  establish- 
ment than  they  fled,  with  rejoicings  that  increased 
the  already  bad  name  of  the  Rogrons.  New  victims 
were  supplied  yearly  by  the  indefatigable  old  father. 

From  the  time  she  was  fifteen,  Sylvie  Rogron,  trained 
to  the  simpering  of  a  saleswoman,  had  two  faces,  — 
the  amiable  face  of  the  seller,  the  natural  face  of 
a  sour  spinster.  Her  acquired  countenance  was  a 
marvellous  bit  of  mimicry.  She  was  all  smiles.  Her 
voice,  soft  and  wheedling,  gave  a  commercial  charm 
to  business.  Her  real  face  was  that  we  have  already 
seen  projecting  from  the  half-opened  blinds ;  the  mere 
sight  of  her  would  have  put  to  flight  the  most  resolute 
Cossack  of  1815,  much  as  that  horde  were  said  to 
like  all  kinds  of  Frenchwomen. 

When   the    letter   from   the    Lorrains   reached    the 


30  Pierrette. 

brother  and  sister,  they  were  in  mourning  for  their 
father,  from  whom  they  inherited  the  house  which 
had  been  as  good  as  stolen  from  Pierrette's  grand- 
mother, also  certain  lands  bought  by  their  father, 
and  certain  moneys  acquired  by  usurious  loans  and 
mortgages  to  the  peasantry,  whose  bits  of  ground  the 
old  drunkard  expected  to  possess.  The  yearly  taking 
of  stock  was  just  over.  The  price  of  the  "  Family 
Sister"  had,  at  last,  been  paid  in  full.  The  Rogrons 
owned  about  sixty  thousand  francs'  worth  of  merchan- 
dise, forty  thousand  in  a  bank  or  in  their  cash-box, 
and  the  value  of  their  business.  Sitting  on  a  bench 
covered  with  striped  green  Utrecht  velvet  placed  in 
a  square  recess  just  behind  their  private  counter  (the 
counter  of  their  forewoman  being  similar  and  directly 
opposite)  the  brother  and  sister  consulted  as  to  what 
they  should  do.  All  retail  shopkeepers  aspire  to  be- 
come members  of  the  bourgeoisie.  By  selling  the 
good-will  of  their  business,  the  pair  would  have  over 
a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  not  counting  the 
inheritance  from  their  father.  B}r  placing  their  present 
available  property  in  the  public  Funds,  they  would 
each  obtain  about  four  thousand  francs  a  year,  and 
by  taking  the  proceeds  of  their  business,  when  sold, 
they  could  repair  and  improve  the  house  they  inherited 
from  their  father,  which  would  thus  be  a  good  in- 
vestment.    They  could  then  go  and  live  in  a  house 


Pierrette.  31 

of  their  own  in  Provins.  Their  forewoman  was  the 
daughter  of  a  rich  farmer  at  Donnemarie,  burdened 
with  nine  children,  to  whom  he  had  endeavored  to 
give  a  good  start  in  life,  being  aware  that  at  his 
death  his  property,  divided  into  nine  parts,  would  be 
but  little  for  any  one  of  them.  In  five  years,  however, 
the  man  had  lost  seven  children,  —  a  fact  which  made 
the  forewoman  so  interesting  that  Rogron  had  tried, 
unsuccessfully,  to  get  her  to  marry  him ;  but  she 
showed  an  aversion  for  her  master  which  baffled  his 
manoeuvres.  Besides,  Mademoiselle  Sylvie  was  not 
in  favor  of  the  match;  in  fact,  she  steadily  opposed 
her  brother's  marriage,  and  sought,  instead,  to  make 
the  shrewd  young  woman  their  successor. 

No  passing  observer  can  form  the  least  idea  of  the 
cryptogamic  existence  of  a  certain  class  of  shopkeepers  ; 
he  looks  at  them  and  asks  himself,  "  On  what,  and  why, 
do  they  live?  whence  have  they  come?  where  do  they 
go?  "  He  is  lost  in  such  questions,  but  finds  no  answer 
to  them.  To  discover  the  feeble  seed  of  poesy  which 
lies  in  those  heads  and  fructifies  in  those  lives,  it  is 
necessary  to  dig  into  them ;  and  when  we  do  that  we 
soon  come  to  a  thin  subsoil  beneath  the  surface.  The 
Parisian  shopkeeper  nurtures  his  soul  on  some  hope  or 
other,  more  or  less  attainable,  without  which  he  would 
doubtless  perish.  One  dreams  of  building  or  manag- 
ing a  theatre ;    another  longs  for  the  honors  of  may- 


32  Pierrette. 

oralty;  this  one  desires  a  country-house,  ten  miles 
from  Paris,  with  a  so-called  *  park,"  which  he  will  adorn 
with  statues  of  tinted  plaster  and  fountains  which  squirt 
mere  threads  of  water,  but  on  which  he  will  spend 
a  mint  of  money ;  others,  again,  dream  of  distinc- 
tion and  a  high  grade  in  the  National  Guard.  Provins, 
that  terrestrial  paradise,  filled  the  brother  and  sister 
with  the  fanatical  longings  which  all  the  lovely  towns  of 
France  inspire  in  their  inhabitants.  Let  us  say  it  to 
the  gloiy  of  La  Champagne,  this  .  love  is  warranted. 
Provins,  one  of  the  most  charming  towns  in  all  France, 
rivals  Frangistan  and  the  valley  of  Cashmere  ;  not  only 
does  it  contain  the  poesy  of  Saadi,  the  Persian  Homer, 
but  it  offers  many  pharmaceutical  treasures  to  medical 
science.  The  crusades  brought  roses  from  Jericho  to 
this  enchanting  valley,  where  by  chance  they  gained 
new  charms  while  losing  none  of  their  colors.  The 
Provins  roses  are  known  the  world  over.  But  Provins 
is  not  only  the  French  Persia,  it  is  also  Baden,  Aix, 
Cheltenham,  —  for  it  has  medicinal  springs.  This  was 
the  spot  which  appeared  from  time  to  time  before  the 
eyes  of  the  two  shopkeepers  in  the  muddy  regions  of 
Saint-Denis. 

After  crossing  the  gray  plains  which  lie  between  La 
Ferte-Gaucher  and  Provins,  a  desert  and  yet  pro- 
ductive, a  desert  of  wheat,  you  reach  a  hill.  Suddenly 
3*ou  behold  at  your  feet  a  town  watered  by  two  rivers ; 


Pierrette.  33 

at  the  feet  of  the  rock  on  which  you  stand  stretches  a 
verdant  valley,  full  of  enchanting  lines  and  fugitive  hori- 
zons. If  you  come  from  Paris  you  will  pass  through 
the  whole  length  of  Provins  on  the  everlasting  high- 
road of  France,  which  here  skirts  the  hillside  and 
is  encumbered  with  beggars  and  blind  men,  who  will 
follow  you  with  their  pitiful  voices  while  you  try  to 
examine  the  unexpected  picturesqueness  of  the  region. 
If  you  come  from  Troyes  you  will  approach  the  town 
on  the  valley  side.  The  chateau,  the  old  town,  and  its 
former  ramparts  are  terraced  on  the  hillside,  the  new 
town  is  below.  They  go  by  the  names  of  Upper  and 
Lower  Provins.  The  upper  is  an  airy  town  with  steep 
streets  commanding  fine  views,  surrounded  by  sunken 
road-ways  and  ravines  filled  with  chestnut  trees  which 
gash  the  sides  of  the  hill  with  their  deep  gulleys. 
The  upper  town  is  silent,  clean,  solemn,  surmounted  by 
the  imposing  ruins  of  the  old  chateau.  The  lower  is  a 
town  of  mills,  watered  by  the  Voulzie  and  the  Durtain, 
two  rivers  of  Brie,  narrow,  sluggish,  and  deep  ;  a  town 
of  inns,  shops,  retired  merchants  ;  filled  with  diligences, 
travelling-carriages,  and  waggons.  The  two  towns,  or 
rather  this  town  with  its  historical  memories,  its  melan- 
choly ruins,  the  gayety  of  its  valley,  the  romantic  charm 
of  its  ravines  filled  with  tangled  shrubbery  and  wild- 
flowers,  its  rivers  banked  with  gardens,  excites  the 
love  of  all  its  children,  who  do  as  the  Auvergnats,  the 

3 


34  Pierrette. 

Savoyards,  in  fact,  all  French  folks  do,  namely,  leave 
Provins  to  make  their  fortunes,  and  always  return. 
"Die  in  one's  form,"  the  proverb  made  for  hares  and 
faithful  souls,  seems  also  the  motto  of  a  Provins  native. 
Thus  the  two  Rogrons  thought  constantly  of  their 
dear  Provins.  While  Jerome  sold  his  thread  he  saw 
the  Upper  town  ;  as  he  piled  up  the  cards  on  which  were 
buttons  he  contemplated  the  valley ;  when  he  rolled 
and  unrolled  his  ribbons  he  followed  the  shining  rivers. 
Looking  up  at  his  shelves  he  saw  the  ravines  where  he 
had  often  escaped  his  father's  anger  and  gone  a-nutting 
or  gathering  blackberries.  But  the  little  square  in  the 
Lower  town  was  the  chief  object  of  his  thoughts ;  he 
imagined  how  he  could  improve  his  house  :  he  dreamed 
of  a  new  front,  new  bedrooms,  a  salon,  a  billiard-room, 
a  dining-room,  and  the  kitchen  garden  out  of  which  he 
would  make  an  English  pleasure-ground,  with  lawns, 
grottos,  fountains,  and  statuary.  The  bedrooms  at 
present  occupied  by  the  brother  and  sister,  on  the 
second  floor  of  a  house  with  three  windows  front  and 
six  storeys  high  in  the  rue  Saint-Denis,  were  furnished 
with  the  merest  necessaries,  yet  no  one  in  Paris  had 
finer  furniture  than  they  —  in  fancy.  When  Jerome 
walked  the  streets  he  stopped  short,  struck  with  ad- 
miration at  the  handsome  things  in  the  upholsterers' 
windows,  and  at  the  draperies  he  coveted  for  his 
house.     When  he  came   home  he  would  say  to  his 


Pierrette.  35 

sister  :  "I  found  in  such  a  shop,  such  and  such  a 
piece  of  furniture  that  will  just  do  for  the  salon."  The 
next  day  he  would  buy  another  piece,  and  another,  and 
so  on.  He  rejected,  the  following  month,  the  articles  of 
the  month  before.  The  Budget  itself,  could  not  have 
paid  for  his  architectural  schemes.  He  wanted  every- 
thing he  saw,  but  abandoned  each  thing  for  the  last 
thing.  When  he  saw  the  balconies  of  new  houses, 
when  he  studied  external  ornamentation,  he  thought  all 
such  things,  mouldings,  carvings,  etc.,  out  of  place  in 
Paris.  "  Ah  !  "  he  would  say,  u  those  fine  things  would 
look  much  better  at  Provins."  When  he  stood  on  his 
doorstep  leaning  against  the  lintel,  digesting  his  morn- 
ing meal,  with  a  vacant  eye,  the  mercer  was  gazing  at 
the  house  of  his  fancy  gilded  by  the  sun  of  his  dream ; 
he  walked  in  his  garden ;  he  heard  the  jet  from  his 
fountain  falling  in  pearly  drops  upon  a  slab  of  lime- 
stone ;  he  played  on  his  own  billiard-table  ;  he  gathered 
his  own  flowers. 

Sylvie,  on  the  other  hand,  was  thinking  so  deepty, 
pen  in  hand,  that  she  forgot  to  scold  the  clerks ;  she 
was  receiving  the  bourgoisie  of  Provins,  she  was  look- 
ing at  herself  in  the  mirrors  of  her  salon,  and  admiring 
the  beauties  of  a  marvellous  cap.  The  brother  and 
sister  began  to  think  the  atmosphere  of  the  rue  Saint- 
Denis  unhealthy,  and  the  smell  of  the  mud  In  the 
markets   made   them   long    for   the   fragrance   of    the 


36  Pierrette. 

Provins  roses.  They  were  the  victims  of  a  genuine 
nostalgia,  and  also  of  a  monomania,  frustrated  at 
present  by  the  necessity  of  selling  their  tapes  and 
bobbins  before  they  could  leave  Paris.  The  promised 
land  of  the  valle}-  of  Provins  attracted  these  Hebrews 
all  the  more  because  they  had  really  suffered,  and  for 
a  long  time,  as  they  crossed  breathlessly  the  sandy 
wastes  of  a  mercer's  business. 

The  Lorrains'  letter  reached  them  in  the  midst  of 
meditations  inspired  by  this  glorious  future.  They 
knew  scarcely  anything  about  their  cousin,  Pierrette 
Lorrain.  Their  father  got  possession  of  the  Auffray 
property  after  the}^  left  home,  and  the  old  man  said 
little  to  any  one  of  his  business  affairs.  They  hardly 
remembered  their  aunt  Lorrain.  It  took  an  hour  of 
genealogical  discussion  before  they  made  her  out  to  be 
the  younger  sister  of  their  own  mother  by  the  second 
marriage  of  their  grandfather  Auffray.  It  immediately 
struck  them  that  this  second  marriage  had  been  fatally 
injurious  to  their  interests  by  dividing  the  Auffray 
property  'between  the  two  daughters.  In  times  past 
they  had  heard  their  father,  who  was  given  to  sneering, 
complain  of  it. 

The  brother  and  sister  considered  the  application  of 
the  Lorrains  from  the  point  of  view  of  such  reminis- 
cences, which  were  not  at  all  favorable  for  Pierrette. 
To   take  charge   of  an   orphan,  a   girl,  a   cousin,  who 


Pierrette.  37 

might  become  their  legal  heir  in  case  neither  of  them 
married, — this  was  a  matter  that  needed  discussion. 
The  question  was  considered  and  debated  under  all  its 
aspects.  In  the  first  place,  they  had  never  seen  Pier- 
rette. Then,  what  a  trouble  it  would  be  to  have  a 
young  girl  to  look  after.  Wouldn't  it  commit  them  to 
some  obligations  towards  her?  Could  they  send  the 
girl  away  if  they  did  not  like  her?  Besides,  wouldn't 
they  have  to  many  her  ?  and  if  Jer6me  found  a  yoke- 
mate among  the  heiresses  of  Provins  they  ought  to 
keep  all  their  property  for  his  children.  A  yokemate 
for  J6r6me,  according  to  Sylvie,  meant  a  stupid,  rich 
and  ugly  girl  who  would  let  herself  be  governed. 
They  decided  to  refuse  the  Lorrain  request.  Sylvie 
agreed  to  write  the  answer.  Business  being  rather 
urgent  just  then  she  delayed  writing,  and  the  fore- 
woman coming  forward  with  an  offer  for  the  stock  and 
good-will  of  the  "Family  Sister,''  which  the  brother 
and  sister  accepted,  the  matter  went  entirely  out  of 
the  old  maid's  mind. 

Sylvie  Rogron  and  her  brother  departed  for  Provins 
four  years  before  the  time  when  the  coming  of  Brigaut 
threw  such  excitement  into  Pierrette's  life.  But  the 
doings  of  the  pair  after  their  arrival  at  Provins  are  as 
necessary  to  relate  as  their  life  in  Paris ;  for  Provins 
was  destined  to  be  not  less  fatal  to  Pierrette  than  the 
commercial  antecedents  of  her  cousins ! 


38  Pierrette. 


III. 


PATHOLOGY   OF   RETIRED   MERCERS. 

When  the  petty  shopkeeper  who  has  come  to  Paris 
from  the  provinces  returns  to  the  provinces  from  Paris 
he  brings  with  him  a  few  ideas ;  then  he  loses  them  in 
the  habits  and  ways  of  provincial  life  into  which  he 
plunges,  and  his  reforming  notions  leave  him.  From 
this  there  do  result,  however,  certain  trifling,  slow, 
successive  changes  by  which  Paris  scratches  the  sur- 
face of  the  provincial  towns.  This  process  marks  the 
transition  of  the  ex-shopkeeper  into  the  substantial 
country  bourgeois,  but  it  acts  like  an  illness  upon  him. 
No  retail  shopkeeper  can  pass  with  impunity  from  his 
perpetual  chatter  into  dead  silence,  from  his  Parisian 
activity  to  the  stillness  of  provincial  life.  "When  these 
worthy  persons  have  laid  by  property  they  spend  a 
portion  of  it  on  some  desire  over  which  they  have  long 
brooded  and  into  which  the}'  now  turn  their  remaining 
impulses,  no  longer  restrained  by  force  of  will.  Those 
who  have  not  been  nursing  a  fixed  idea  either  travel 
or  rush  into  the  political  interests  of  their  municipalit}-. 


Pierrette.  39 

Others  take  to  hunting  or  fishing  and  torment  their 
farmers  or  tenants ;  others  again  become  usurers  or 
stock-jobbers.  As  for  the  scheme  of  the  Rogrons, 
brother  and  sister,  we  know  what  that  was ;  they  had 
to  satisfy  an  imperious  desire  to  handle  the  trowel  and 
remodel  their  old  house  into  a  charming  new  one. 

This  fixed  idea  produced  upon  the  square  of  Lower 
Provins  the  front  of  the  building  which  Brigaut  had 
been  examining ;  also  the  interior  arrangements  of  the 
house  and  its  handsome  furniture.  The  contractor  did 
not  drive  a  nail  without  consulting  the  owners,  without 
requiring  them  to  sign  the  plans  and  specifications, 
without  explaining  to  them  at  full  length  and  in  every 
detail  the  nature  of  each  article  under  discussion,  where 
it  was  manufactured,  and  what  were  its  various  prices. 
As  to  the  choicer  things,  each,  they  were  told,  had  been 
used  by  Monsieur  Tiphaine,  or  Madame  Julliard,  or 
Monsieur  the  mayor,  the  notables  of  the  place.  The 
idea  of  having  things  done  as  the  rich  bourgeois  of 
Provins  did  them  carried  the  day  for  the  contractor. 

"  Oh,  if  Monsieur  Garceland  has  it  in  his  house,  put 
it  in,"  said  Mademoiselle  Rogron.  "It  must  be  all 
right ;  his  taste  is  good." 

"  Sylvie,  see,  he  wants  us  to  have  ovolos  in  the  cor- 
nice of  the  corridor." 

4 '  Do  you  call  those  ovolos  ?  " 

"Yes,  mademoiselle." 


40  Pierrette. 

"  What  an  odd  name  !     I  never  heard  it  before." 

"  But  you  have  seen  the  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  understand  Latin  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Well,  it  means  eggs  —  from  the  Latin  ovum." 

1 ' What  queer  fellows  you  are,  you  architects!" 
cried  Rogron.  "It  is  stepping  on  egg-shells  to  deal 
with  you." 

"  Shall  we  paint  the  corridor?"  asked  the  builder. 

"  Good  heavens,  no !  "  cried  Sylvie.  "  That  would 
be  five  hundred  francs  more  !  " 

"  Oh,  but  the  salon  and  the  staircase  are  too  pretty 
not  to  have  the  corridor  decorated  too,"  said  the  man. 
"That  little  Madame  Lesourd  had  hers  painted  last 
year." 

"  And  now  her  husband,,  as  king's  attorney,  is  obliged 
to  leave  Provins." 

"  Ah,  he  '11  be  chief  justice  some  of  these  days,"  said 
the  builder. 

"  How  about  Monsieur  Tiphaine  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Tiphaine  ?  he 's  got  a  pretty  wife  and  is 
sure  to  get  on.  He  '11  go  to  Paris.  Shall  we  paint  the 
corridor  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Rogron.  uThe  Lesourds  must  be 
made  to  see  that  we  are  as  good  as  they." 

The  first  year  after  the  Rogrons  returned  to  Provins 


Pierrette.  41 

was  entirely  taken  up  by  such  discussions,  by  the  pleas- 
ure of  watching  the  workmen,  by  the  surprise  occa- 
sioned to  the  townspeople  and  the  replies  to  questions 
of  all  kinds  which  resulted  therefrom,  and  also  by  the 
attempts  made  by  Sylvie  and  her  brother  to  be  socially 
intimate  with  the  principal  families  of  Provins. 

The  Rogrons  had  never  gone  into  any  society ;  they 
had  never  left  their  shop,  knowing  absolutely  no  one  in 
Paris,  and  now  they  were  athirst  for  the  pleasures  of 
social  life.  On  their  arrival  in  Provins  they  found  their 
former  masters  in  Paris  (long  since  returned  to  the 
provinces),  Monsieur  and  Madame  Julliard,  lately  of 
the  "  Chinese  Worm,"  their  children  and  grandchildren  ; 
the  Gu6pin  family,  or  rather  the  Guepin  clan,  the 
youngest  scion  of  which  now  kept  the  "Three  Dis- 
taffs ; "  and  thirdly,  Madame  Gu£n£e  from  whom  they 
had  purchased  the  "  Family  Sister,"  and  whose  three 
daughters  were  married  and  settled  in  Provins.  These 
three  races,  Julliard,  Guepin,  and  Gu6n6e,  had  spread 
through  the  town  like  dog-grass  through  a  lawn.  The 
mayor,  Monsieur  Garceland,  was  the  son-in-law  of 
Monsieur  Guepin  ;  the  curate,  Abbe  Peroux,  was  own 
brother  to  Madame  Julliard ;  the  judge,  Monsieur 
Tiphaine  junior,  was  brother  to  Madame  Guenee,  who 
signed  herself  "  n£e  Tiphaine." 

The  queen  of  the  town  was  the  beautiful  Madame 
Tiphaine  junior,   only  daughter  of  Madame   Roguin, 


42  Pierrette. 

the  rich  wife  of  a  former  notary  in  Paris,  whose  name 
was  never  mentioned.  Clever,  delicate,  and  pretty, 
married  in  the  provinces  to  please  her  mother,  who  for 
special  reasons  did  not  want  her  with  her,  and  took  her 
'from  a  convent  only  a  few  days  before  the  wedding, 
Melanie  Tiphaine  considered  herself  an  exile  in  Provins, 
where  she  behaved  to  admiration.  Handsomely  dowered, 
she  still  had  hopes.  As  for  Monsieur  Tiphaine,  his  old 
father  had  made  to  his  eldest  daughter  Madame  Guenee 
such  advances  on  her  inheritance  that  an  estate  worth 
eight  thousand  francs  a  year,  situated  within  fifteen 
miles  of  Provins,  was  to  come  wholly  to  him.  Conse- 
quently, the  Tiphaines  would  possess,  sooner  or  later, 
some  forty  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  were  not 
"  badly  off,"  as  they  say.  The  one  overwhelming  de- 
sire of  the  beautiful  Madame  Tiphaine  was  to  get 
Monsieur  Tiphaine  elected  deputy.  As  deputy  he  would 
become  a  judge  in  Paris ;  and  she  was  firmly  resolved  to 
push  him  up  into  the  Royal  courts.  For  these  reasons 
she  tickled  all  vanities  and  strove  to  please  all  parties ; 
and  —  what  is  far  more  difficult — she  succeeded.  Twice 
a  week  she  received  the  bourgeoisie  of  Provins  at  her 
bouse  in  the  Upper  town.  This  intelligent  young 
woman  of  twenty  had  not  as  yet  made  a  single  blunder 
or  misstep  on  the  slippery  path  she  bad  taken.  Six- 
gratified  everybody's  self-love,  and  petted  their  hobbies ; 
serious  with  the  serious,  a  girl  with  girls,  instinctively  a 


PUrretU.  $M 

mother  with  mother.  gay  with  young  wives  and  dis- 
posed to  help  them,  gracious  to  all,  — in  short,  a  pearl, 
a  treasure,  the  pride  of  Provins.  She  had  never  yet 
said  a  word  of  her  intentions  and  wishes,  bat  all  the 
electors  of  Provins  were  awaiting  the  time  when  their 
dear  Monsieur  Tiphaine  had  reached  the  required  age 
for  nomination.  Every  man  in  the  place,  certain  of 
his  own  talents,  regarded  the  future  deputy  as  his  par- 
tienlar  friend,  his  protector.  Of  course,  Monsieur 
Tiphaine  would  attain  to  honors ;  he  would  be  Keeper 
of  the  Seals,  and  then,  what  wouldn't  he  do  for 
Provins ! 

Stu'h  were  the  pleasant  means  by  which  Madame 
Tiphaine  had  come  to  rale  over  the  little  town.  Ma- 
dame Guenee,  Monsieur  Tiphaine's  sister,  after  having 
married  her  eldest  daughter  to  Monsieur  Lesoord, 
prosecuting  attorney,  her  second  to  Monsieur  Martener, 
the  doctor,  and  the  third  to  Monsieur  Auffray,  the 
notary,  had  herself  married  Monsieur  Galardon.  the 
collector.  Mother  and  daughters  all  considered  Mon- 
sieur Tiphaine  as  the  richest  and  ablest  man  in  the 
family.  The  prosecuting  attorney  had  the  strong- 
est interest  in  sending  his  uncle  to  Paris,  expecting 
to  step  into  his  shoes  as  judge  of  the  local  court  of 
Provins.  The  four  ladies  formed  a  sort  of  court 
round  Madame  Tiphaine,  whose  ideas  and  advice  they 
followed  on  all  occasions.   Monsieur  J  ulliard,  the 


44  Pierrette. 

son  of  the  old  merchant,  who  had  married  the  only 
daughter  of  a  rich  farmer,  set  up  a  sudden,  secret, 
and  disinterested  passion  for  Madame  Tiphaine,  that 
angel  descended  from  the  Parisian  skies.  The  clever 
Melanie,  too  clever  to  involve  herself  with  a  Julliard, 
but  quite  capable  of  keeping  him  in  the  condition 
of  Amadis  and  making  the  most  of  his  folly,  advised 
him  to  start  a  journal,  intending  herself  to  play  the 
part  of  Egeria.  For  the  last  two  years,  therefore, 
Julliard,  possessed  by  his  romantic  passion,  had  pub- 
lished the  said  newspaper,  called  the  "  Bee-hive," 
which  contained  articles  literary,  archaeological,  and 
medical,  written  in  the  family.  The  advertisements 
paid  expenses.  The  subscriptions,  two  hundred  in 
all,  made  the  profits.  Every  now  and  then  melan- 
choly verses,  totally  incomprehensible  in  La  Brie,  ap- 
peared, addressed,  "  To  Her  ! ! !  "  with  three  exclam- 
ation marks.  The  clan  Julliard  was  thus  united  to 
the  other  clans,  and  the  salon  of  Madame  Tiphaine 
became,  naturally,  the  first  in  the  town.  The  few 
aristocrats  who  lived  in  Provins  were,  of  course, 
apart,  and  formed  a  single  salon  in  the  Upper  town, 
at  the  house  of  the  old  Comtesse  de  Breautey. 

During  the  first  six  months  of  their  transplantation, 
the  Rogrons,  favored  by  their  former  acquaintance 
with  several  of  these  people,  were  received,  first  by 
Madame  Julliard  the  elder,  and  by  the  former  Madame 


Pierrette.  45 

Gu6n£e,  now  Madame  Galardon  (from  whom  they 
had  bought  their  business),  and  next,  after  a  good 
deal  of  difficult}',  by  Madame  Tiphaine.  All  parties 
wished  to  study  the  Rogrons  before  admitting  them. 
It  was  difficult,  of  course,  to  keep  out  merchants  of 
the  rue  Saint-Denis,  originally  from  Provins,  who  had 
returned  to  the  town  to  spend  their  fortunes.  Still, 
the  object  of  all  society  is  to  amalgamate  persons 
of  equal  wealth,  education,  manners,  customs,  accom- 
plishments, and  character.  Now  the  Guepins,  Guenees, 
and  Julliards  had  a  better  position  among  the  bour- 
geoisie than  the  Rogrons,  whose  father  had  been  held 
in  contempt  on  account  of  his  private  life,  and  his 
conduct  in  the  matter  of  the  Auffray  property,  —  the 
facts  of  which  were  known  to  the  notary  Auffra}-, 
Madame  Galardon's  son-in-law. 

In  the  social  life  of  these  people,  to  which  Madame 
Tiphaine  had  given  a  certain  tone  of  elegance,  all  was 
homogeneous ;  the  component  parts  understood  each 
other,  knew  each  other's  characters,  and  behaved  and 
conversed  in  a  manner  that  was  agreeable  to  all.  The 
Rogrons  flattered  themselves  that  being  received  by 
Monsieur  Gareeland,  the  mayor,  they  would  soon  be 
on  good  terms  with  all  the  best  families  in  the  town. 
Sylvie  applied  herself  to  learn  boston.  Rogron,  in- 
capable of  playing  a  game,  twirled  his  thumbs  and 
had  nothing  to  say  except  to  discourse  on   his  new 


46  Pierrette. 

house.  Words  seemed  to  choke  him ;  he  would  get 
up,  try  to  speak,  become  frightened,  and  sit  down 
again,  with  comical  distortion  of  the  lips.  Sylvie 
naively  betrayed  her  natural  self  at  cards.  Sharp, 
irritable,  whining  when  she  lost,  insolent  when  she 
won,  nagging  and  quarrelsome,  she  annoyed  her  part- 
ners as  much  as  her  adversaries,  and  became  the 
scourge  of  society.  And  yet,  possessed  by  a  silly, 
unconcealed  ambition,  Rogron  and  his  sister  were  bent 
on  playing  a  part  in  the  society  of  a  little  town  already 
in  possession  of  a  close  corporation  of  twelve  allied 
families.  Allowing  that  the  restoration  of  their  house 
had  cost  them  thirt}T  thousand  francs,  the  brother  and 
sister  possessed  between  them  at  least  ten  thousand 
francs  a  year.  This  they  considered  wealth,  and  with 
it  they  endeavored  to  impress  society,  which  imme- 
diately took  the  measure  of  their  vulgarity,  crass  ig- 
norance, and  foolish  envy.  On  the  evening  when  they 
were  presented  to  the  beautiful  Madame  Tiphaine, 
who  had  already  eyed  them  at  Madame  Garceland's 
and  at  Madame  Julliard  the  elder's,  the  queen  of  the 
town  remarked  to  Julliard  junior,  who  stayed  a  few 
moments  after  the  rest  of  the  company  to  talk  with 
her  and  her  husband :  — 

"You  all  seem  to  be  taken  with  those  Rogrons." 
"  No,   no,"  said   Amadis,  "  they   bore   my   mother 
and  annoy  my  wife.     When  Mademoiselle  Sylvie  was 


Pierrette.  47 

apprenticed,  thirty  years  ago,  to  my  father,  none  of 
them  could  endure  her." 

"  I  have  a  great  mind,"  said  Madame  Tiphaine, 
putting  her  pretty  foot  on  the  bar  of  the  fender,  "to 
make  it  understood  that  my  salon  is  not  an  inn." 

Julliard  raised  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  as  if  to  say, 
"Good  heavens?  what  wit,  what  intellect!  " 

"I  wish  my  society  to  be  select;  and  it  certainly 
will  not  be  if  I  admit  those  Rogrons." 

"They  have  neither  heart,  nor  mind,  nor  manners ;  " 
said  Monsieur  Tiphaine.  "  If,  after  selling  thread  for 
twenty  years,  as  my  sister  did  for  example  —  " 

"  Your  sister,  my  dear,"  said  his  wife  in  a  paren- 
thesis, "  cannot  be  out  of  place  in  any  salon." 

"  —  if,"  he  continued,  "  people  are  stupid  enough  not 
to  throw  off  the  shop  and  polish  their  manners,  if  they 
don't  know  any  better  than  to  mistake  the  Counts  of 
Champagne  for  the  accounts  of  a  wine-shop,  as  Rogron 
did  this  evening,  they  had  better,  in  my  opinion,  stay 
at  home." 

"They  are  simply  impudent,"  said  Julliard.  "To 
hear  them  talk  you  would  suppose  there  was  no  other 
handsome  house  in  Provins  but  theirs.  They  want  to 
crush  us ;  and  after  all,  they  have  hardly  enough  to 
live  on." 

"  If  it  was  only  the  brother,"  said  Madame  Tiphaine, 
"  one  might  put  up  with  him  ;  he  is  not  so  aggressive. 


48  Pierrette. 

Give  him  a  Chinese  puzzle  and  he  will  sta}'  in  a 
corner  quietly  enough ;  it  would  take  him  a  whole 
winter  to  find  it  out.  But  Mademoiselle  Sylvie,  with 
that  voice  like  a  hoarse  Iryena  and  those  lobster-claws 
of  hands  !     Don't  repeat  all  this,  Julliard." 

When  Julliard  had  departed  the  little  woman  said  to 
her  husband :  — 

"I  have  aborigines  enough  whom  I  am  forced  to 
receive  ;  these  two  will  fairly  kill  me.  With  your  per- 
mission, I  shall  deprive  myself  of  their  society." 

"You  are  mistress  in  your  own  house,"  replied  he ; 
"  but  that  will  make  enemies.  The  Rogrons  will  fling 
themselves  into  the  opposition,  which  hitherto  has  had 
no  real  strength  in  Provins.  That  Rogron  is  already 
intimate  with  Baron  Gouraud  and  the  lawyer  Vinet." 

"  Then,"  said  Melanie,  laughing,  "  they  will  do  you 
some  service.  Where  there  are  no  opponents,  there  is 
no  triumph.  A  liberal  conspirac}',  an  illegal  cabal,  a 
struggle  of  any  kind,  will  bring  you  into  the  foreground." 

The  justice  looked  at  his  young  wife  with  a  sort  of 
alarmed  admiration. 

The  next  day  it  was  whispered  about  that  the 
Rogrons  had  not  altogether  succeeded  in  Madame 
Tiphaine's  salon.  That  lady's  speech  about  an  inn  was 
immenseh'  admired.  It  was  a  whole  month  before  she 
returned  Mademoiselle  Sylvie's  visit.  Insolence  of 
this  kind  is  very  much  noticed  in  the  provinces. 


Pierrette.  49 

During  the  evening  which  Sylvie  had  spent  at 
Madame  Tiphaine's  a  disagreeable  scene  occurred  be- 
tween herself  and  old  Madame  Julliard  while  playing 
boston,  apropos  of  a  trick  which  Sylvie  declared  the  old 
lady  had  made  her  lose  on  purpose ;  for  the  old  maid, 
who  liked  to  trip  others,  could  never  endure  the  same 
game  on  herself.  The  next  time  she  was  invited  out 
the  mistress  took  care  to  make  up  the  card-tables  before 
she  arrived ;  so  that  Sylvie  was  reduced  to  wandering 
from  table  to  table  as  an  onlooker,  the  players  glancing 
at  her  with  scornful  eyes.  At  Madame  Julliard  senior's 
house,  they  played  whist,  a  game  Sylvie  did  not  know. 

The  old  maid  at  last  understood  that  she  was  under  a 
ban ;  but  she  had  no  conception  of  the  reason  of  it. 
She  fancied  herself  an  object  of  jealousy  to  all  these 
persons.  After  a  time  she  and  her  brother  received 
no  invitations,  but  they  still  persisted  in  paying  evening 
visits.  Satirical  persons  made  fun  of  them,  —  not  spite- 
fully, but  amusingly ;  inveigling  them  to  talk  absurdly 
about  the  eggs  in  their  cornice,  and  their  wonderful 
cellar  of  wine,  the  like  of  which  was  not  in  Provins. 

Before  long  the  Rogron  house  was  completely  fin- 
ished, and  the  brother  and  sister  then  resolved  to  give 
several  sumptuous  dinners,  as  much  to  return  the 
civilities  they  had  received  as  to  exhibit  their  luxury. 
The  invited  guests  accepted  from  curiosity  only.  The 
first  dinner  was  given  to  the  leading  personages  of  the 


50  Pierrette. 

town  ;  to  Monsieur  and  Madame  Tiphaine,  with  whom, 
however,  the  Rogrons  had  never  dined ;  to  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Julliard,  senior  and  junior ;  to  Monsieur 
Lesourd,  Monsieur  le  cure,  and  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Galardon.  It  was  one  of  those  interminable  provincial 
dinners,  where  you  sit  at  table  from  five  to  nine  o'clock. 
Madame  Tiphaine  had  introduced  into  Provins  the  Par- 
isian custom  of  taking  leave  as  soon  as  coffee  had  been 
served.  On  this  occasion  she  had  company  at  home  and 
was  anxious  to  get  away.  The  Rogrons  accompanied 
her  husband  and  herself  to  the  street  door,  and  when  they 
returned  to  the  salon,  disconcerted  at  not  being  able  to 
keep  their  chief  guests,  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
preparing  to  imitate  Madame  Tiphaine's  fashion  with 
cruel  provincial  promptness. 

"  They  won't  see  our  salon  lighted  up,"  said  Sylvie, 
"and  that's  the  show  of  the  house." 

The  Rogrons  had  counted  on  surprising  their  guests. 
It  was  the  first  time  any  one  had  been  admitted  to 
the  now  celebrated  house,  and  the  company  assembled 
at  Madame  Tiphaine's  was  eagerly  awaiting  her  opinion 
of  the  marvels  of  the  "  Rogron  palace." 

"Well!"  cried  little  Madame  Martener,  "you've 
seen  the  Louvre ;   tell  us  all  about  it." 

"All?  Well,  it  would  be  like  the  dinner,  —  not 
much." 

"But  do  describe  it." 


Pierrette.  51 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  that  front  door,  the  gilded 
grating  of  which  we  have  all  admired,"  said  Madame 
Tiphaine,  "opens  upon  a  long  corridor  which  divides 
the  house  unequally ;  on  the  right  side  there  is  one 
window,  on  the  other,  two.  At  the  garden  end,  the 
corridor  opens  with  a  glass  door  upon  a  portico  with 
steps  to  the  lawn,  where  there 's  a  sun  dial  and  a 
plaster  statue  of  Spartacus,  painted  to  imitate  bronze. 
Behind  the  kitchen,  the  builder  has  put  the  staircase, 
and  a  sort  of  larder  which  we  were  spared  the  sight 
of.  The  staircase,  painted  to  imitate  black  marble 
with  yellow  veins,  turns  upon  itself  like  those  you 
see  in  cafes  leading  from  the  ground-floor  to  the 
entresol.  The  balustrade,  of  walnut  with  brass  or- 
naments and  dangerously  slight,  was  pointed  out  to 
us  as  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world.  The 
cellar  stairs  run  under  it.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
corridor  is  the  dining-room,  which  communicates  by 
folding-doors  with  a  salon  of  equal  size,  the  windows 
of  which  look  on  the  garden." 

"Dear  me,  is  there  no  ante-chamber?"  asked 
Madame  Auffray. 

"  The  corridor,  full  of  draughts,  answers  for  an  ante- 
chamber," replied  Madame  Tiphaine.  "  Our  friends 
have  had,  they  assured  us,  the  eminently  national, 
liberal,  constitutional,  and  patriotic  feeling  to  use 
none  but  French  woods  in   the  house ;   so  the  floor 


52  Pierrette. 

in  the  dining-room  is  chestnut,  the  sideboards,  tables, 
and  chairs,  of  the  same.  White  calico  window-cur- 
tains, with  red  borders,  are  held  back  by  vulgar  red 
straps ;  these  magnificent  draperies  run  on  wooden 
curtain  rods  ending  in  brass  lion's-paws.  Above  one 
of  the  sideboards  hangs  a  dial  suspended  by  a  sort 
of  napkin  in  gilded  bronze,  —  an  idea  that  seemed  to 
please  the  Rogrons  hugel}'.  They  tried  to  make  me 
admire  the  invention ;  all  I  could  manage  to  say  was 
that  if  it  was  ever  proper  to  wrap  a  napkin  round 
a  dial  it  was  certainly  in  a  dining-room.  On  the 
sideboard  were  two  huge  lamps  like  those  on  the 
counter  of  a  restaurant.  Above  the  other  sideboard 
hung  a  barometer,  excessively  ornate,  which  seems 
to  play  a  great  part  in  their  existence ;  Rogron  gazed 
at  it  as  he  might  at  his  future  wife.  Between  the 
two  windows  is  a  white  porcelain  stove  in  a  niche  over- 
loaded with  ornament.  The  walls  glow  with  a  mag- 
nificent paper,  crimson  and  gold,  such  as  you  see 
in  the  same  restaurants,  where,  no  doubt,  the  Rogrons 
chose  it.  Dinner  was  served  on  white  and  gold  china, 
with  a  dessert  service  of  light  blue  with  green  flowers  ; 
but  they  showed  us  another  service  in  earthenware 
for  everyday  use.  Opposite  to  each  sideboard  was 
a  large  cupboard  containing  linen.  All  was  clean, 
new,  and  horribly  sharp  in  tone.  However,  I  admit 
the  dining-room;   it  has  some  character,  though  dis- 


Pierrette.  53 

agreeable ;  it  represents  that  of  the  masters  of  the 
house.  But  there  is  no  enduring  the  five  engravings 
that  hang  on  the  walls ;  the  Minister  of  the  Interior 
ought  really  to  frame  a  law  against  them.  One  was 
Poniatowski  jumping  into  the  Elster;  the  others, 
Napoleon  pointing  a  cannon,  the  defence  at  Clichy, 
and  the  two  Mazeppas,  all  in  gilt  frames  of  the  vul- 
garest  description,  —  fit  to  carry  off  the  prize  of  disgust. 
Oh !  how  much  I  prefer  Madame  Julliard's  pastels 
of  fruit,  those  excellent  Louis  XV.  pastels,  which 
are  in  keeping  with  the  old  dining-room  and  its  gray 
panels,  —  defaced  by  age,  it  is  true,  but  they  possess 
the  true  provincial  characteristics  that  go  so  well  with 
old  family  silver,  precious  china,  and  our  simple  habits. 
The  provinces  are  the  provinces  ;  they  are  only  ridicu- 
lous when  they  mimic  Paris.  I  prefer  this  old  salon 
of  my  husband's  forefathers,  with  its  heavy  curtains 
of  green  and  white  damask,  the  Louis  XV.  mantel- 
piece, the  twisted  pier-glasses,  the  old  mirrors  with 
their  beaded  mouldings,  and  the  venerable  card-tables. 
Yes,  I  prefer  my  old  Sevres  vases  in  royal  blue, 
mounted  on  copper,  my  clock  with  those  impossible 
flowers,  that  rococco  chandelier,  and  the  tapestried 
furniture,  to  all  the  finery  of  the  Rogron  salon." 

"  What  is  the  salon  like?"  said  Monsieur  Martener, 
delighted  with  the  praise  the  handsome  Parisian  be- 
stowed so  adroitly  on  the  provinces. 


54  Pierrette. 

"  As  for  the  salon,  it  is  all  red,  —  the  red  Made- 
moiselle Sylvie  turns  when  she  loses  at  cards." 

M  Sylvan-red,"  said  Monsieur  Tiphaine,  whose  spark- 
ling saying  long  remained  in  the  vocabulary  of  Provins. 

"  Window-curtains,  red;  furniture,  red;  mantel- 
piece, red,  veined  yellow,  candlelabra  and  clock  ditto 
mounted  on  bronze,  common  and  heavy  in  design,  — 
Roman  standards  with  Greek  foliage  !  Above  the  clock 
is  that  inevitable  good-natured  lion  which  looks  at  you 
with  a  simper,  the  lion  of  ornamentation,  with  a  big 
ball  under  his  feet,  symbol  of  the  decorative  lion,  who 
passes  his  life  holding  a  black  ball,  —  exactlj-  like  a 
deputy  of  the  Left.  Perhaps  it  is  meant  as  a  consti- 
tutional myth.  The  face  of  the  clock  is  curious.  The 
glass  over  the  chimney  is  framed  in  that  new  fashion 
of  applied  mouldings  which  is  so  trumpery  and  vulgar. 
From  the  ceiling  hangs  a  chandelier  carefully  wrapped 
in  green  muslin,  and  rightly  too,  for  it  is  in  the 
worst  taste,  the  sharpest  tint  of  bronze  with  hideous 
ornaments.  The  walls  are  covered  with  a  red  flock 
paper  to  imitate  velvet  inclosed  in  panels,  each  panel 
decorated  with  a  chromo-lithograph  in  one  of  those 
frames  festooned  with  stucco  flowers  to  represent 
wood-carving.  The  furniture,  in  cashmere  and  elm- 
wood,  consists,  with  classic  uniformity,  of  two  sofas, 
two  easy-chairs,  two  armchairs,  and  six  common  chairs. 
A  vase  in  alabaster,  called  a  la  Medicis,  kept  under 


Pierrette.  55 

glass  stands  on  a  table  between  the  windows  ;  before  the 
windows,  which  are  draped  with  magnificent  red  silk 
curtains  and  lace  curtains  under  them,  are  card-tables. 
The  carpet  is  Aubusson,  and  you  may  be  sure  the 
Rogrons  did  not  fail  to  lay  hands  on  that  most  vulgar 
of  patterns,  large  flowers  on  a  red  ground.  The  room 
looks  as  if  no  one  ever  lived  there ;  there  are  no 
books,  no  engravings,  none  of  those  little  knick-knacks 
we  all  have  lying  about,"  added  Madame  Tiphaine, 
glancing  at  her  own  table  covered  with  fashionable 
trifles,  albums,  and  little  presents  given  to  her  by 
friends;  "  and  there  are  no  flowers, — it  is  all  cold 
and  barren,  like  Mademoiselle  Sylvie  herself.  Buffon 
says  the*  style  is  the  man,  and  certainly  salons  have 
styles  of  their  own." 

From  this  sketch  everybody  can  see  the  sort  of  house 
the  brother  and  sister  lived  in,  though  they  can  never 
imagine  the  absurdities  into  which  a  clever  builder 
dragged  the  ignorant  pair,  —  new  inventions,  fantastic 
ornaments,  a  system  for  preventing  smoky  chimneys, 
another  for  preventing  damp  walls  ;  painted  marquetry 
panels  on  the-  staircase,  colored  glass,  superfine  locks, 
—  in  short,  all  those  vulgarities  which  make  a  house  ex- 
pensive and  gratify  the  bourgeois  taste. 

No  one  chose  to  visit  the  Rogrons,  whose  social  plans 
thus  came  to  nothing.  Their  invitations  were  refused 
under  various  excuses,  —  the  evenings  were  already  en- 


56  Pierrette. 

gaged  to  Madame  Garceland  and  the  other  ladies  of  the 
Provins  world.  The  Rogrons  had  supposed  that  all 
that  was  required  to  gain  a  position  in  society  was  to 
give  a  few  dinners.  But  no  one  any  longer  accepted 
them,  except  a  few  young  men  who  went  to  make  fun 
of  their  host  and  hostess,  and  certain  diners-out  who 
went  everywhere. 

Frightened  at  the  dead  loss  of  forty  thousand  francs 
swallowed  up  without  profit  in  what  she  called  her 
"  dear  house."  Sylvie  now  set  to  work  to  recover  it  by 
economy.  She  gave  no  more  dinners,  which  had  cost 
her  forty  or  fifty  francs  without  the  wines,  and  did  not 
fulfil  her  social  hopes,  hopes  that  are  as  hard  to 
realize  in  the  provinces  as  in  Paris.  She  sent  away 
her  cook,  took  a  country-girl  to  do  the  menial  work, 
and  did  her  own  cooking,  as  she  said,  "  for  pleasure." 

Fourteen  months  after  their  return  to  Provins,  the 
brother  and  sister  had  fallen  into  a  solitary  and  wholly 
unoccupied  condition.  Their  banishment  from  society 
roused  in  Sj7lvie's  heart  a  dreadful  hatred  against  the 
Tiphaines,  Julliards  and  all  the  other  members  of  the 
social  world  of  Provins,  which  she  called  "  the  clique," 
and  with  whom  her  personal  relations  became  extremely 
cold.  She  would  gladly  have  set  up  a  rival  clique,  but 
the  lesser  bourgeoisie  was  made  up  of  either  small 
shopkeepers  who  were  only  free  on  Sundays  and  fete- 
days,  or  smirched  individuals  like  the  lawyer  Vinet  and 


Pierrette.  57 

Doctor  Ne>aud,  and  wholly  inadmissible  Bonapartists 
like  Baron  Gouraud,  with  whom,  however,  Rogron 
thoughtlessly  allied  himself,  though  the  upper  bour- 
geoisie had  warned  him  against  them. 

The  brother  and  sister  were,  therefore,  forced  to  sit 
by  the  fire  of  the  stove  in  the  dining-room,  talking  over 
their  former  business,  trying  to  recall  the  faces  of  their 
customers  and  other  matters  they  had  intended  to  for- 
get. By  the  end  of  the  second  winter  ennui  weighed 
heavily  on  them.  They  did  not  know  how  to  get 
through  each  day ;  sometimes  as  they  went  to  bed  the 
words  escaped  them,  "There's  another  over!"  They 
dragged  out  the  morning  by  staying  in  bed,  and  dress- 
ing slowly.  Rogron  shaved  himself  every  day,  exam- 
ined his  face,  consulted  his  sister  on  any  changes  he 
thought  he  saw  there,  argued  with  the  servant  about 
the  temperature  of  his  hot  water,  wandered  into  the 
garden,  looked  to  see  if  the  shrubs  were  budding,  sat 
at  the  edge  of  the  water  where  he  had  built  himself  a 
kiosk,  examined  the  joinery  of  his  house,  —  had  it 
sprung?  had  the  walls  settled,  the  panels  cracked? 
or  he  would  come  in  fretting  about  a  sick  hen,  and 
complaining  to  his  sister,  who  was  nagging  the  servant 
as  she  set  the  table,  of  the  dampness  which  was  coming 
out  in  spots  upon  the  plaster.  The  barometer  was 
Rogron's  most  useful  bit  of  property.  He  consulted  it 
at  all  hours,  tapped  it  familiarly  like  a  friend,  saying : 


58  Pierrette. 

'•  Vile  weather ! n  to  which  his  sister  would  reply, 
M  Pooh !  it  is  only  seasonable."  If  an}'  one  called  to 
see  him  the  excellence  of  that  instrument  was  his  chief 
topic  of  conversation. 

Breakfast  took  up  some  little  time  ;  with  what  delib- 
eration those  two  human  beings  masticated  their  food  ! 
Their  digestions  were  perfect;  cancer  of  the  stomach 
was  not  to  be  dreaded  hy  them.  They  managed  to  get 
along  till  twelve  o'clock  by  reading  the  "  Bee-hive  " 
and  the  "  Constitutional."  The  cost  of  subscribing  to 
the  Parisian  paper  was  shared  by  Vinet  the  lawyer,  and 
Baron  Gouraud.  Rogron  himself  carried  the  paper  to 
Gouraud,  who  had  been  a  colonel  and  lived  on  the 
square,  and  whose  long  yarns  were  Rogron's  delight; 
the  latter  sometimes  puzzled  over  the  warnings  he  had 
received,  and  asked  himself  how  such  a  lively  com- 
panion could  be  dangerous.  He  was  fool  enough  to 
tell  the  colonel  he  had  been  warned  against  him,  and 
to  repeat  all  the  u  clique  "had  said.  God  knows  how 
the  colonel,  who  feared  no  one,  and  was  equally  to  be 
dreaded  with  pistols  or  a  sword,  gave  tongue  about 
Madame  Tiphaine  and  her  Amadis,  and  the  ministerial- 
ists of  the  Upper  town,  persons  capable  of  any  villany 
to  get  places,  and  who  counted  the  votes  at  elections 
to  suit  themselves,  etc. 

About  two  o'clock  Rogron  started  for  a  little  walk. 
He   was   quite   happy   if    some    shopkeeper    standing 


Pierrette.  59 

on  the  threshold  of  his  door  would  stop  him  and 
sa}r,  "Well,  pere  Rogron,  how  goes  it  with  you?" 
Then  he  would  talk,  and  ask  for  news,  and  gather  all 
the  gossip  of  the  town.  He  usually  went  as  far  as  the 
Upper  town,  sometimes  to  the  ravines,  according  to 
the  weather.  Occasionally  he  would  meet  old  men 
taking  their  walks  abroad  like  himself.  Such  meetings 
were  joyful  events  to  him.  There  happened  to  be  in 
Provins  a  few  men  weary  of  Parisian  life,  quiet  scholars 
who  lived  with  their  books.  Fancy  the  bewilderment 
of  the  ignorant  Rogron  when  he  heard  a  deputy-judge 
named  Desfondrilles,  more  of  an  archaeologist  than  a 
magistrate,  saying  to  old  Monsieur  Martener,  a  really 
learned  man,  as  he  pointed  to  the  valley :  — 

"  Explain  to  me  why  the  idlers  of  Europe  go  to  Spa 
instead  of  coming  to  Provins,  when  the  springs  here 
have  a  superior  curative  value  recognized  by  the 
French  faculty,  —  a  potential  virtue  worthy  of  the  medi- 
cinal properties  of  our  roses." 

"  That  is  one  of  the  caprices  of  caprice,"  said  the 
old  gentleman.  "  Bordeaux  wine  was  unknown  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  Marechal  de  Richelieu,  one  of  the  noted 
men  of  the  last  century,  the  French  Alcibiades,  was  ap- 
pointed governor  ofGu}Tenne.  His  lungs  were  diseased, 
and,  heaven  knows  why!  the  wine  of  the  country 
did  him  good  and  he  recovered.  Bordeaux  h.stantly 
made  a  hundred   millions ;    the   marshal   widened   its 


60  Pierrette. 

territory  to  Angouleme,  to  Cahors,  —  in  short,  to  over  a 
hundred  miles  of  circumference  !  it  is  hard  to  tell  where 
the  Bordeaux  vineyards  end.  And  yet  they  haven't 
erected  an  equestrian  statue  to  the  marshal  in  Bor- 
deaux ! 

4 'Ah!  if  anything  of  that  kind  happens  to  Provins," 
said  Monsieur  Desfondrilles,  "  let  us  hope  that  some- 
where in  the  Upper  or  Lower  town  they  will  set  up  a 
bas-relief  of  the  head  of  Monsieur  Opoix,  the  re-dis- 
coverer of  the  mineral  waters  of  Provins." 

4 'My  dear  friend,  the  revival  of  Provins  is  impos- 
sible," replied  Monsieur  Martener;  "the  town  was 
made  bankrupt  long  ago." 

"  What !  "  cried  Rogron,  opening  his  eyes  very  wide. 

"  It  was  once  a  capital,  holding  its  own  against 
Paris  in  the  twelfth  century,  when  the  Comtes  de 
Champagne  held  their  court  here,  just  as  King  Rene" 
held  his  in  Provence,"  replied  the  man  of  learning ;  "for 
in  those  days  civilization,  gayety,  poesy,  elegance,  and 
women,  in  short  all  social  splendors,  were  not  found 
exclusively  in  Paris.  It  is  as  difficult  for  towns  and 
cities  as  it  is  for  commercial  houses  to  recover  from 
ruin.  Nothing  is  left  to  us  of  the  old  Provins  but  the 
fragrance  of  our  historical  glory  and  that  of  our  roses, 
—  and  a  sub-prefecture  !  " 

"Ah!  what  mightn't  France  be  if  she  had  only 
preserved    her  feudal    capitals ! "    said   Desfondrilles. 


Pierrette.  61 

"Can  sub-prefects  replace  the  poetic,  gallant,  warlike 
race  of  the  Thibaults  who  made  Provins  what  Ferrara 
was  to  Italy,  Weimar  to  Germany,  —  what  Munich  is 
trying  to  be  to-day." 

"  Was  Provins  ever  a  capital?  "  asked  Rogron. 

"  Why  !  where  do  you  come  from  ? "  exclaimed  the 
archaeologist.  "Don't  you  know,"  he  added,  striking 
the  ground  of  the  Upper  town  where  they  stood  with 
his  cane,  "  don't  you  know  that  the  whole  of  this  part 
of  Provins  is  built  on  catacombs  ?  " 

"Catacombs?" 

"  Yes,  catacombs,  the  extent  and  height  of  which 
are  yet  undiscovered.  They  are  like  the  naves  of 
cathedrals,  and  there  are  pillars  in  them." 

"  Monsieur  is  writing  a  great  archaeological  work  to 
explain  these  strange  constructions"  interposed  Mon- 
sieur Martener,  seeing  that  the  deputy-judge  was  about 
to  mount  his  hobby. 

Rogron  came  home  much  comforted  to  know  that 
his  house  was  in  the  valley.  The  crypts  of  Pro- 
vins kept  him  occupied  for  a  week  in  explorations, 
and  gave  a  topic  of  conversation  to  the  unhapp}' 
celibates  for  man}'  evenings. 

In  the  course  of  these  ramblings  Rogron  picked  up 
various  bits  of  information  about  Provins,  its  inhabitants, 
their  marriages,  together  with  stale  political  news  ;  all  of 
which  he  narrated  to  his  sister.     Scores  of  times  in 


62  Pierrette. 

his  walks  he  would  stop  and  sa}', —  often  to  the 
same  person  on  the  same  daj*,  —  "  Well,  what 's  the 
news?  "  When  he  reached  home  he  would  fling  himself 
on  the  sofa  like  a  man  exhausted  with  labor,  whereas  he 
was  only  worn  out  with  the  burden  of  his  own  dulness. 
Dinner  came  at  last,  after  he  had  gone  twenty  times  to 
the  kitchen  and  back,  compared  the  clocks,  and  opened 
and  shut  all  the  doors  of  the  house.  So  long  as  the 
brother  and  sister  could  spend  their  evenings  in  paying 
visits  they  managed  to  get  along  till  bedtime ;  but 
after  they  were  compelled  to  stay  at  home  those  even- 
ings became  like  a  parching  desert.  Sometimes  persons 
passing  through  the  quiet  little  square  would  hear 
unearthly  noises  as  though  the  brother  were  throttling 
the  sister ;  a  moment's  listening  would  show  that  they 
were  only  3-awning.  These  two  human  mechanisms, 
having  nothing  to  grind  between  their  rusty  wheels, 
were  creaking  and  grating  at  each  other.  The 
brother  talked  of  marrying,  but  only  in  despair.  He 
felt  old  and  weary  ;  the  thought  of  a  woman  frightened 
him.  Sylvie,  who  began  to  see  the  necessity  of  having 
a  third  person  in  the  home,  suddenly  remembered  the 
little  cousin,  about  whom  no  one  in  Provins  had  yet 
inquired,  the  friends  of  Madame  Lorrain  probably  sup- 
posing that  mother  and  child  were  both  dead. 

Sylvie    Rogron   never  lost   anything ;  she   was   too 
thoroughly  an  old  maid   even  to  mislay  the  smallest 


Pierrette.  63 

article ;  but  she  pretended  to  have  suddenly  found  the 
Lorrains'  letter,  so  as  to  mention  Pierrette  naturally  to 
her  brother,  who  was  greatly  pleased  at  the  possibility 
of  having  a  little  girl  in  the  house.  Sylvie  replied  to 
Madame  Lorrain's  letter  half  affectionately,  half  com- 
mercially, as  one  may  sa}T,  explaining  the  delay  by 
their  change  of  abode  and  the  settlement  of  their*  affairs. 
She  seemed  desirous  of  receiving  her  little  cousin,  and 
hinted  that  Pierrette  would  perhaps  inherit  twelve 
thousand  francs  a  year  if  her  brother  Jerome  did  not 
marry. 

Perhaps  it  is  necessary  to  have  been,  like  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, something  of  a  wild  beast,  and  shut  up  in  a 
cage  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  without  other  prey  than 
the  butcher's  meat  doled  out  by  the  keeper,  or  a  retired 
merchant  deprived  of  the  joys  of  tormenting  his  clerks, 
to  understand  the  impatience  with  which  the  brother 
and  sister  awaited  the  arrival  of  their  cousin  Lorrain. 
Three  days  after  the  letter  had  gone,  the  pair  were 
already  asking  themselves  when  she  would  get  there. 

Sylvie  perceived  in  her  spurious  benevolence  towards 
her  poor  cousin  a  means  of  recovering  her  position  in 
the  social  world  of  Provins.  She  accordingly  went  to 
call  on  Madame  Tiphaine,  of  whose  reprobation  she 
was  conscious,  in  order  to  impart  the  fact  of  Pierrette's 
approaching  arrival,  —  deploring  the  girl's  unfortunate 
position,  and  posing  herself  as  being  only  too  happy 


64  Pierrette. 

to  succor  her  and  give  her  a  position  as  daughter  and 
future  heiress. 

"  You  have  been  rather  long  in  discovering  her," 
said  Madame  Tiphaine,  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm. 

A  few  words  said  in  a  low  voice  by  Madame  Garce- 
land,  while  the  cards  were  being  dealt,  recalled  to  the 
minds  of  those  who  heard  her  the  shameful  conduct  of 
old  Rogron  about  the  Auffray  property  ;  the  notary  ex- 
plained the  iniquity. 

"Where  is  the  little  girl  now?"  asked  Monsieur 
Tiphaine,  politely. 

"  In  Brittany,"  said  Rogron. 

"Brittany  is  a  large  place,"  remarked  Monsieur 
Lesourd. 

u  Her  grandfather  and  grandmother  Lorrain  wrote 
to  us  —  when  was  that,  my  dear?"  said  Rogron  ad- 
dressing his  sister. 

Sylvie,  who  was  just  then  asking  Madam  Garce- 
land  where  she  had  bought  the  stuff  for  her  gown, 
answered  hastily,  without  thinking  of  the  effect  of 
her  words :  — 

"  Before  we  sold  the  business." 

"  And  have  you  only  just  answered  the  letter,  ma- 
demoiselle?" asked  the  notary. 

Sylvie  turned  as  red  as  a  live  coal. 

"  We  wrote  to  the  Institution  of  Saint- Jacques," 
remarked  Rogron. 


Pierrette.  65 

"  That  is  a  sort  of  hospital  or  almshouse  for  old  peo- 
ple," said  Monsieur  Desfondrilles,  who  knew  Nantes. 
"  She  can't  be  there ;  they  receive  no  one  under 
sixty." 

"She  is  there,  with  her  grandmother  Lorrain,"  said 
Rogron. 

' '  Her  mother  had  a  little  fortune,  the  eight  thousand 
francs  which  your  father  —  no,  I  mean  of  course  your 
grandfather  —  left  to  her,"  said  the  notary,  making  the 
blunder  intentional^. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Rogron,  stupidly,  not  understanding  the 
notary's  sarcasm. 

"Then  you  know  nothing  about  your  cousin's  posi- 
tion or  means  ?  "  asked  Monsieur  Tiphaine. 

"If  Monsieur  Rogron  had  known  it,"  said  the 
deputy-judge,  "he  would  never  have  left  her  all  this 
time  in  an  establishment  of  that  kind.  I  remember 
now  that  a  house  in  Nantes  belonging  to  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Lorrain  was  sold  under  an  order  of  the 
court,  and  that  Mademoiselle  Lorrain's  claim  was 
swallowed  up.  I  know  this,  for  I  was  commissioner 
at  the  time." 

The  notary  spoke  of  Colonel  Lorrain,  who,  had  he 
lived,  would  have  been  much  amazed  to  know  that 
his  daughter  was  in  such  an  institution.  The  Rog- 
rons  beat  a  retreat,  saying  to  each  other  that  the  world 
was  very  malicious.     Sylvie  perceived  that  the  news  of 

l  UNIVERSITY 


66  Pierrette. 

her  benevolence  had  missed  its  effect,  —  in  fact,  she  had 
lost  ground  in  all  minds ;  and  she  felt  that  henceforth 
she  was  forbidden  to  attempt  an  intimacy  with  the 
upper  class  of  Provins.  After  this  evening  the  Rog- 
rons  no  longer  concealed  their  hatred  of  that  class  and 
all  its  adherents.  The  brother  told  the  sister  the  scan- 
dals that  Colonel  Gouraud  and  the  lawyer  Vinet  had 
put  into  his  head  about  the  Tiphaines,  the  Guenees, 
the  Garcelands,  the  Julliards,  and  others :  — 

"  I  declare,  Sylvie,  I  don't  see  why  Madame  Tiphaine 
should  turn  up  her  nose  at  shopkeeping  in  the  rue  Saint- 
Denis  ;  it  is  more  honest  than  what  she  comes  from. 
Madame  Roguin,  her  mother,  is  cousin  to  those  Guil- 
laumes  of  the  '  Cat-playing-ball '  who  gave  up  the 
business  to  Joseph  Lebas,  their  son-in-law.  Her  father 
is  that  Roguin  who  failed  in  1819,  and  ruined  the  house 
of  Cesar  Birotteau.  Madame  Tiphaine's  fortune  was 
stolen,  —  for  what  else  are  you  to  call  it  when  a  notary's 
wife  who  is  very  rich  lets  her  husband  make  a  fraudulent 
bankruptcy  ?  Fine  doings  !  and  she  marries  her  daughter 
in  Provins  to  get  her  out  of  the  way,  —  all  on  account  of 
her  own  relations  with  du  Tillet.  And  such  people  set 
up  to  be  proud !     Well,  well,  that 's  the  world  !  " 

On  the  day  when  Jerome  Rogron  and  his  sister 
Sylvie  began  to  declaim  against  "the  clique"  they 
were,  without  being  aware  of  it,  on  the  road  to  having 
a  society  of  their  own ;  their  house  was  to  become  a 


Pierrette.  67 

rendezvous  for  other  interests  seeking  a  centre,  —  those 
of  the  hitherto  floating  elements  of  the  liberal  party  in 
Provins.  And  this  is  how  it  came  about :  The  launch 
of  the  Rogrons  in  society  had  been  watched  with  great 
curiosity  by  Colonel  Gouraud  and  the  lawyer  Vinet, 
two  men  drawn  together,  first  by  their  ostracism,  next 
by  their  opinions.  They  both  professed  patriotism  and 
for  the  same  reason,  —  they  wished  to  become  of  conse- 
quence. The  Liberals  in  Provins  were,  so  far,  confined 
to  one  old  soldier  who  kept  a  cafe,  an  innkeeper,  Mon- 
sieur Cournant  a  notary,  Doctor  Neraud,  and  a  few 
stray  persons,  mostty  farmers  or  those  who  had  bought 
lands  of  the  public  domain. 

The  colonel  and  the  lawyer,  delighted  to  lay  hands 
on  a  fool  whose  money  would  be  useful  to  their  schemes, 
and  who  might  himself,  in  certain  cases,  be  made  to 
bell  the  cat,  while  his  house  would  serve  as  a  meet- 
ing-ground for  the  scattered  elements  of  the  part}*, 
made  the  most  of  the  Rogrons*  ill-will  against  the 
upper  classes  of  the  place.  The  three  had  already  a 
slight  tie  in  their  united  subscription  to  the  "  Consti- 
tutionnel ; "  it  would  certainly  not  be  difficult  for  the 
colonel  to  make  a  Liberal  of  the  ex-mercer,  though 
Rogron  knew  so  little  of  politics  that  he  was  capable 
of  regarding  the  exploits  of  Sergeant  Mercier  as  those 
of  a  brother  shopkeeper. 

The  expected  arrival  of  Pierrette  brought  to  sudden 


68  Pierrette. 

fruition  the  selfish  ideas  of  the  two  men,  inspired  as 
they  were  by  the  folly  and  ignorance  of  the  celibates. 
Seeing  that  Sylvie  had  lost  all  chance  of  establishing 
herself  in  the  good  societ}-  of  the  place,  an  afterthought 
came  to  the  colonel.  Old  soldiers  have  seen  so  many 
horrors  in  all  lands,  so  many  grinning  corpses  on 
battle-fields,  that  no  physiognomies  repel  them ;  and 
Gouraud  began  to  cast  his  eyes  on  the  old  maid's  for- 
tune. This  imperial  colonel,  a  short,  fat  man,  wore 
enormous  rings  in  ears  that  were  bushy  with  tufts  of 
hair.  His  sparse  and  grizzly  whiskers  were  called  in 
1799  "fins."  His  jolly  red  face  was  rather  discolored, 
like  those  of  all  who  had  lived  to  tell  of  the  Beresina. 
The  lower  half  of  his  big,  pointed  stomach  marked  the 
straight  line  which  characterizes  a  cavalry  officer. 
Gouraud  had  commanded  the  Second  Hussars.  His 
gray  moustache  hid  a  huge  blustering  mouth,  —  if  we 
ma}T  use  a  term  which  alone  describes  that  gulf.  He 
did  not  eat  his  food,  he  engulfed  it.  A  sabre  cut  had 
slit  his  nose,  by  which  his  speech  was  made  thick 
and  very  nasal,  like  that  attributed  to  Capuchins.  His 
hands,  which  were  short  and  broad,  were  of  the  kind 
that  make  women  say:  "You  have  the  hands  of  a 
rascal."  His  legs  seemed  slender  for  his  torso.  In 
that  fat  and  active  body  an  absolutely  lawless  spirit 
disported  itself,  and  a  thorough  experience  of  the 
things  of  life,  together  with  a  profound  contempt  for 


Pierrette.  69 

social  conventions,  lay  hidden  beneath  the  apparent 
indifference  of  a  soldier.  Colonel  Gouraud  wore  the 
cross  of  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  honor,  and  his 
emoluments  from  that,  together  with  his  salary  as  a 
retired  officer,  gave  him  in  all  about  three  thousand 
francs  a  year. 

The  lawyer,  tall  and  thin,  had  liberal  opinions  in 
place  of  talent,  and  his  only  revenue  was  the  meagre 
profits  of  his  office.  In  Provins  lawyers  plead  their 
own  cases.  The  court  was  unfavorable  to  Vinet  on 
account  of  his  opinions  ;  consequently,  even  the  farmers 
who  were  Liberals,  when  it  came  to  lawsuits  preferred 
to  employ  some  lawyer  who  was  more  congenial  to 
the  judges.  Vinet  was  regarded  with  disfavor  in  other 
ways.  He  was  said  to  have  seduced  a  rich  girl  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Coulommiers,  and  thus  have  forced 
her  parents  to  marry  her  to  him.  Madame  Vinet  was 
a  Chargeboeuf,  an  old  and  noble  family  of  La  Brie, 
whose  name  comes  from  the  exploit  of  a  squire  during 
the  expedition  of  Saint  Louis  to  Egypt.  She  incurred 
the  displeasure  of  her  father  and  mother,  who  arranged, 
unknown  to  Vinet,  to  leave  their  entire  fortune  to  their 
son,  doubtless  charging  him  privately,  to  pa}'  over  a 
portion  of  it  to  his  sister's  children. 

Thus  the  first  bold  effort  of  the  ambitious  man  was  a 
failure.  Pursued  by  poverty,  and  ashamed  not  to  give 
his  wife  the  means  of  making  a  suitable  appearance,  he 


70  Pierrette. 

had  made  desperate  efforts  to  enter  public  life,  but  the 
Chargeboeuf  family  refused  him  their  influence.  These 
Royalists  disapproved,  on  moral  grounds,  of  his  forced 
marriage  ;  besides,  he  was  named  Vinet,  and  how  could 
they  be  expected  to  protect  a  plebeian  ?  Thus  he  was 
driven  from  branch  to  branch  when  he  tried  to  get 
some  good  out  of  his  marriage.  Repulsed  by  every 
one,  filled  with  hatred  for  the  family  of  his  wife,  for 
the  government  which  denied  him  a  place,  for  the  social 
world  of  Provins  which  refused  to  admit  him,  Vinet 
submitted  to  his  fate ;  but  his  gall  increased.  He 
became  a  Liberal  in  the  belief  that  his  fortune  might 
yet  be  made  by  the  triumph  of  the  opposition,  and  he 
lived  in  a  miserable  little  house  in  the  Upper  town 
from  which  his  wife  seldom  issued.  Madame  Vinet  had 
found  no  one  to  befriend  her  since  her  marriage  except 
an  old  Madame  de  Chargeboeuf,  a  widow  with  one 
daughter,  who  lived  at  Troyes.  The  unfortunate  young 
woman,  destined  for  better  things,  was  absolutely  alone 
in  her  home  with  a  single  child. 

There  are  some  kinds  of  poverty  which  may  be 
nobly  accepted  and  gayly  borne ;  but  Vinet,  devoured 
by  ambition,  and  feeling  himself  guilty  towards  his 
wife,  was  full  of  darkling  rage ;  his  conscience  grew 
elastic ;  and  he  finally  came  to  think  any  means  of 
success  permissible.  His  }'oung  face  changed.  Per- 
sons about  the  courts  were   sometimes  frightened   as 


Pierrette.  71 

they  looked  at  his  viperish,  flat  head,  his  slit  mouth, 
his  eyes  gleaming  through  glasses,  and  heard  his  sharp, 
persistent  voice  which  rasped  their  nerves.  His  muddy 
skin,  with  its  sickly  tones  of  green  and  yellow,  expressed 
the  jaundice  of  his  balked  ambition,  his  perpetual  dis- 
appointments and  his  hidden  wretchedness.  He  could 
talk  and  argue  ;  he  was  well-informed  and  shrewd,  and 
was  not  without  smartness  and  metaphor.  Accustomed 
to  look  at  everything  from  the  standpoint  of  his  own 
success,  he  was  well  fitted  for  a  politician.  A  man 
who  shrinks  from  nothing  so  long  as  it  is  legal,  is 
strong ;  and  Vinet's  strength  lay  there. 

This  future  athlete  of  parliamentary  debate,  who  was 
destined  to  share  in  proclaiming  the  dynasty  of  the 
house  of  Orleans  had  a  terrible  influence  on  Pierrette's 
fate.  At  the  present  moment  he  was  bent  on  making 
for  himself  a  weapon  by  founding  a  newspaper  in 
Provins.  After  studying  the  Rogrons  at  a  distance 
(the  colonel  aiding  him)  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  brother  might  be  made  useful.  This  time  he 
was  not  mistaken  ;  his  days  of  poverty  were  over,  after 
seven  wretched  years,  when  even  his  daily  bread  was 
sometimes  lacking.  The  day  when  Gouraud  told  him 
in  the  little  square  that  the  Rogrons  had  finally  quar- 
relled with  the  bourgeois  aristocracy  of  the  Upper 
town,  he  nudged  the  colonel  in  the  ribs  significantly, 
and  said,  with  a  knowing  look  :  — 


72  Pierrette. 

"One  woman  or  another  —  handsome  or  ugly  —  you 
don't  care ;  marry  Mademoiselle  Rogron  and  we  can 
organize  something  at  once." 

" 1  have  been  thinking  of  it,"  replied  Gouraud,  "  but 
the  fact  is  they  have  sent  for  the  daughter  of  Colonel 
Lorrain,  and  she 's  their  next  of  kin." 

"  You  can  get  them  to  make  a  will  in  your  favor. 
Ha  !  you  would  get  a  very  comfortable  house." 

"As  for  the  little  girl  —  well,  well,  let's  see  her," 
said  the  colonel,  with  a  leering  and  thoroughly  wicked 
look,  which  proved  to  a  man  of  Vinet's  quality  how 
little  respect  the  old  trooper  could  feel  for  any  girl. 


Pierrette.  73 


IV. 


PIERRETTE. 

After  her  grandfather  and  grandmother  entered  the 
sort  of  hospital  in  which  they  sadly  expected  to  end 
their  days,  Pierrette,  being  young  and  proud,  suffered 
so  terribly  at  living  there  on  charity  that  she  was  thank- 
ful when  she  heard  she  had  rich  relations.  When  Bri- 
gaut,  the  son  of  her  mother's  friend  the  major,  and  the 
companion  of  her  childhood,  who  was  learning  his  trade 
as  a  cabinet-maker  at  Nantes,  heard  of  her  departure 
he  offered  her  the  money  to  pay  her  way  to  Paris  in 
the  diligence,  —  sixty  francs,  the  total  of  his  pour-boires 
as  an  apprentice,  slowly  amassed,  and  accepted  by  Pier- 
rette with  the  sublime  indifference  of  true  affection, 
showing  that  in  a  like  case  she  herself  would  be 
affronted  by  thanks. 

Brigaut  was  in  the  habit  of  going  every  Sunday  to 
Saint-Jacques  to  play  with  Pierrette  and  try  to  con- 
sole her.  The  vigorous  young  workman  knew  the 
dear  delight  of  bestowing  a  complete  and  devoted  pro- 
tection on  an  object  involuntarily  chosen  by^his  heart. 
More  than  once  he  and  Pierrette,  sitting  on  Sundays 


74  Pierrette. 

in  a  corner  of  the  garden,  had  embroidered  the  veil 
of  the  future  with  their  youthful  projects ;  the  appren- 
tice, armed  with  his  plane,  scoured  the  world  to  make 
their  fortune,  while  Pierrette  waited. 

In  October,  1824,  when  the  child  had  completed  her 
eleventh  year,  she  was  entrusted  by  the  two  old  people 
and  by  Brigaut,  all  three  sorrowfully  sad,  to  the  con- 
ductor of  the  diligence  from  Nantes  to  Paris,  with  an 
entreaty  to  put  her  safely  into  the  diligence  from  Paris 
to  Provins  and  to  take  good  care  of  her.  Poor  Brigaut ! 
he  ran  like  a  dog  after  the  coach  looking  at  his  dear 
Pierrette  as  long  as  he  was  able.  In  spite  of  her  signs 
he  ran  over  three  miles,  and  when  at  last  he  was  ex- 
hausted his  eyes,  wet  with  tears,  still  followed  her. 
She,  too,  was  crying  when  she  saw  him  no  longer  run- 
ning by  her,  and  putting  her  head  out  of  the  window 
she  watched  him,  standing  stock-still  and  looking  after 
her,  as  the  lumbering  vehicle  disappeared. 

The  Lorrains  and  Brigaut  knew  so  little  of  life  that 
the  girl  had  not  a  penny  when  she  arrived  in  Paris. 
The  conductor,  to  whom  she  had  mentioned  her  ricli 
friends,  paid  her  expenses  at  the  hotel,  and  made  the 
conductor  of  the  Provins  diligence  pay  him,  telling  him 
to  take  good  care  of  the  girl  and  to  see  that  the  charges 
were  paid  03-  the  famity,  exactly  as  though  she  were  a 
case  of  goods.  Four  days  after  her  departure  from 
Nantes,  about  nine  o'clock  of  a  Monday  night,  a  kind 


Pierrette.  75 

old  conductor  of  the  Messageries-royales,  took  Pierrette 
by  the  hand,  and  while  the  porters  were  discharging  in 
the  Grand'Rue  the  packages  and  passengers  for  Pro- 
vins,  he  led  the  little  girl,  whose  only  baggage  was  a 
bundle  containing  two  dresses,  two  chemises,  and  two 
pairs  of  stockings,  to  Mademoiselle  Rogron's  house, 
which  was  pointed  out  to  him  by  the  director  at  the 
coach  office. 

"  Good-evening,  mademoiselle  and  the  rest  of  the 
company.  I  've  brought  you  a  cousin,  and  here  she 
is  ;  and  a  nice  little  girl  too,  upon  my  word.  You  have 
forty-seven  francs  to  pay  me,  and  sign  my  book." 

Mademoiselle  Sjlvie  and  her  brother  were  dumb  with 
pleasure  and  amazement. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  conductor,  "the  coach  is 
waiting.  Sign  my  book  and  pay  me  forty-seven  francs, 
sixty  centimes,  and  whatever  you  please  for  m}Tself 
and  the  conductor  from  Nantes ;  we  've  taken  care  of 
the  little  girl  as  if  she  were  our  own  ;  and  paid  for  her 
beds  and  her  food,  also  her  fare  to  Provins,  and  other 
little  things." 

"  Forty-seven  francs,  twelve  sous  !  "  said  Sylvie. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  dispute  it?  "  cried  the  man. 

"  Where  's  the  bill?  "  said  Rogron. 

"  Bill !  look  at  the  book." 

"  Stop  talking,  and  pay  him,"  said  Sj'lvie,  "  You  see 
there  's  nothing  else  to  be  done." 


76  Pierrette. 

Rogron  went  to  get  the  money,  and  gave  the  man 
forty-seven  francs,  twelve  sous. 

4 'And  nothing  for  nry  comrade  and  me?"  said  the 
conductor. 

Sylvie  took  two  francs  from  the  depths  of  the  old 
velvet  bag  which  held  her  keys. 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  said  the  man  ;  "  keep  'em  3-ourself. 
We  would  rather  care  for  the  little  one  for  her  own 
sake."  He  picked  up  his  book  and  departed,  saying 
to  the  servant- gii-1 :  "  What  a  pair !  it  seems  there  are 
crocodiles  out  of  Egypt !  " 

11  Such  men  are  always  brutal,  "said  Sylvie,  who  over- 
heard the  words. 

"  They  took  good  care  of  the  little  girl,  anyhow,"  said 
Adele  with  her  hands  on  her  hips. 

"  We  don't  have  to  live  with  him,"  remarked 
Rogron. 

"  Where  's  the  little  one  to  sleep?  "  asked  Adele. 

Such  was  the  arrival  of  Pierrette  Lorrain  in  the 
home  of  her  cousins,  who  gazed  at  her  with  stolid  eyes  ; 
she  was  tossed  to  them  like  a  package,  with  no  inter- 
mediate state  between  the  wretched  chamber  at  Saint- 
Jacques  and  the  dining-room  of  her  cousins,  which 
seemed  to  her  a  palace.  She  was  shy  and  speechless. 
To  all  other  eyes  than  those  of  the  Rogrons  the  little 
Breton  girl  would  have  seemed  enchanting  as  she  stood 
there  in  her  petticoat  of  coarse  blue  flannel,  with  a  pink 


Pierrette.  77 

cambric  apron,  thick  shoes,  blue  stockings,  and  a  white 
kerchief,  her  hands  being  covered  by  red  worsted  mit- 
tens edged  with  white,  bought  for  her  by  the  conductor. 
Her  dainty  Breton  cap  (which  had  been  washed  in  Paris, 
for  the  journey  from  Nantes  had  rumpled  it)  was  like  a 
halo  round  her  happy  little  face.  This  national  cap,  of 
the  finest  lawn,  trimmed  with  stiffened  lace  pleated  in 
flat  folds,  deserves  description,  it  was  so  dainty  and  sim- 
ple. The  light  coming  through  the  texture  and  the  lace 
produced  a  partial  shadow,  the  soft  shadow  of  a  light 
upon  the  skin,  which  gave  her  the  virginal  grace  that  all 
painters  seek  and  Leopold  Robert  found  for  the  Raffael- 
esque  face  of  the  woman  who  holds  a  child  in  his  picture 
of  "  The  Gleaners."  Beneath  this  fluted  frame  of  light 
sparkled  a  white  and  rosy  and  artless  face,  glowing  with 
vigorous  health.  The  warmth  of  the  room  brought  the 
blood  to  the  cheeks,  to  the  tips  of  the  pretty  ears,  to 
the  lips  and  the  end  of  the  delicate  nose,  making  the 
natural  white  of  the  complexion  whiter  still. 

"Well,  are  not  you  going  to  say  anything?  I  am 
your  cousin  Sylvie,  and  that  is  your  cousin  Rogron." 

M  Do  you  want  something  to  eat?"  asked  Rogron. 

"  When  did  you  leave  Nantes?  "  asked  Sylvie. 

"  Is  she  dumb?  "  said  Rogron. 

u  Poor  little  dear,  she  has  hardly  any  clothes,"  cried 
Adele,  who  had  opened  the  child's  bundle,  tied  up  in  a 
handkerchief  of  the  old  Lorrains. 


78  Pierrette. 

"Kiss  your  cousin,"  said  Sylvie. 

Pierrette  kissed  Rogron. 

u  Kiss  your  cousin,"  said  Rogron. 

Pierrette  kissed  Sylvie. 

"  She  is  tired  out  with  her  journey,  poor  little  thing ; 
she  wants  to  go  to  sleep,"  said  Adele. 

Pierrette  was  overcome  with  a  sudden  and  invincible 
aversion  for  her  two  relatives,  —  a  feeling  that  no  one 
had  ever  before  excited  in  her.  Sylvie  and  the  maid 
took  her  up  to  bed  in  the  room  where  Brigaut  after- 
wards noticed  the  white  cotton  curtain.  In  it  was  a 
little  bed  with  a  pole  painted  blue,  from  which  hung  a 
calico  curtain  ;  a  walnut  bureau  without  a  marble  top,  a 
small  table,  a  looking-glass,  a  very  common  night-table 
without  a  door,  and  three  chairs  completed  the  furniture 
of  the  room.  The  walls,  which  sloped  in  front,  were 
hung  with  a  shabb3T  paper,  blue  with  black  flowers.  The 
tiled  floor,  stained  red  and  polished,  was  icy  to  the  feet. 
There  was  no  carpet  except  a  strip  at  the  bedside.  The 
mantelpiece  of  common  marble  was  adorned  by  a 
mirror,  two  candelabra  in  copper-gilt,  and  a  vulgar 
alabaster  cup  in  which  two  pigeons,  forming  handles, 
were  drinking. 

"You  will  be  comfortable  here,  my  little  girl?" 
said  Sylvie. 

"Oh,  it 's  beautiful !  "  said  the  child,  in  her  silvery 
voice. 


Pierrette.  79 

"  She 's  not  difficult  to  please,"  muttered  the  stout 
servant.     "  Sha'n't  I  warm  her  bed?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sylvie,  "  the  sheets  may  be  damp." 

Adele  brought  one  of  her  own  night-caps  when  she 
returned  with  the  warming-pan,  and  Pierrette,  who  had 
never  slept  in  anything  but  the  coarsest  linen  sheets, 
was  amazed  at  the  fineness  and  softness  of  the  cotton 
ones.  When  she  was  fairly  in  bed  and  tucked  up, 
Adele,  going  downstairs  with  Sylvie,  could  not  refrain 
from  saying,  "  All  she  has  is  n't  worth  three  francs, 
mademoiselle." 

Ever  since  her  economical  regime  began,  Sylvie  had 
compelled  the  maid  to  sit  in  the  dining-room  so  that 
one  fire  and  one  lamp  could  do  for  all ;  except  when 
Colonel  Gouraud  and  Vinet  came,  on  which  occasions 
Adele  was  sent  to  the  kitchen. 

Pierrette's  arrival  enlivened  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

"  We  must  get  her  some  clothes  to-morrow,"  said 
Sylvie;   "she  has  absolutely  nothing." 

"  No  shoes  but  those  she  had  on,  which  weigh  a 
pound,"  said  Adele. 

"That's  always  so,  in  their  part  of  the  countiy," 
remarked  Rogron. 

' '  How  she  looked  at  her  room !  though  it  really 
is  n't  handsome  enough  for  a  cousin  of  yours,  ma- 
demoiselle." 

"  It  is  good  enough  ;  hold  your  tongue,"  said  Sylvie. 


80  Pierrette. 

M  Gracious,  what  chemises  !  coarse  enough  to  scratch 
her  skin  off;  not  a  thing  can  she  use  here,"  said 
Adele,  emptying  the  bundle. 

Master,  mistress,  and  servant  were  busy  till  past 
ten  o'clock,  deciding  what  cambric  thej7  should  buy 
for  the  new  chemises,  how  many  pairs  of  stockings, 
how  man}'  under-petticoats,  and  what  material,  and  in 
reckoning  up  the  whole  cost  of  Pierrette's  outfit. 

"  You  won't  get  off  under  three  hundred  francs," 
said  Rogron,  who  could  remember  the  different  prices, 
and  add  them  up  from  his  former  shop-keeping  habit. 

u  Three  hundred  francs  !  "  cried  Sylvie. 

uYes,  three  hundred.     Add  it  up." 

The  brother  and  sister  went  over  the  calculation 
once  more,  and  found  the  cost  would  be  fully  three 
hundred  francs,  not  counting  the  making. 

"  Three  hundred  francs  at  one  stroke  !  "  said  Sylvie 
to  herself  as  she  got  into  bed. 

Pierrette  was  one  of  those  children  of  love  whom 
love  endows  with  its  tenderness,  its  vivacity,  its  gayety, 
its  nobility,  its  devotion.  Nothing  had  so  far  disturbed 
or  wounded  a  heart  that  was  delicate  as  that  of  a 
fawn,  but  which  was  now  painfully  repressed  by  the 
cold  greeting  of  her  cousins.  If  Brittany  had  been 
full  of  outward  misery,  at  least  it  was  full  of  love. 
The  old  Lorrains  were  the  most  incapable  of  merchants, 


Pierrette.  81 

but  they  were  also  the  most  loving,  frank,  caressing, 
of  friends,  like  all  who  are  incautious  and  free  from 
calculation.  Their  little  granddaughter  had  received 
no  other  education  at  Pen-Hoel  than  that  of  nature. 
Pierrette  went  where  she  liked,  in  a  boat  on  the  pond, 
or  roaming  the  village  and  the  fields  with  Jacques 
Brigaut,  her  comrade,  exactly  as  Paul  and  Virginia 
might  have  done.  Petted  by  everybody,  free  as  air, 
they  gayly  chased  the  joys  of  childhood.  In  summer 
they  ran  to  watch  the  fishing,  they  caught  the  many- 
colored  insects,  they  gathered  flowers,  they  gardened ; 
in  winter  they  made  slides,  they  built  snow-men  or 
huts,  or  pelted  each  other  with  snowballs.  Welcomed 
by  all,  they  met  with  smiles  wherever  they  went. 

When  the  time  came  to  begin  their  education,  disas- 
ters came,  too.  Jacques,  left  without  means  at  the 
death  of  his  father,  was  apprenticed  by  his  relatives 
to  a  cabinet-maker,  and  fed  by  charity,  as  Pierrette 
was  soon  to  be  at  Saint-Jacques.  Until  the  little  girl 
was  taken  with  her  grandparents  to  that  asylum,  she 
had  known  nothing  but  fond  caresses  and  protection 
from  every  one.  Accustomed  to  confide  in  so  much 
love,  the  little  darling  missed  in  these  rich  relatives, 
so  eagerly  desired,  the  kindly  looks  and  wa}Ts  which 
all  the  world,  even  strangers  and  the  conductors  of 
the  coaches,  had  bestowed  upon  her.  Her  bewilder- 
ment,   already    great,    was    increased    by   the    moral 


82  Pierrette. 

atmosphere  she  had  entered.  The  heart  turns  suddenly 
cold  or  hot  like  the  body.  The  poor  child  wanted  to 
en',  without  knowing  why ;  but  being  very  tired  she 
went  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  Pierrette  being,  like  all  country 
children,  accustomed  to  get  up  early,  was  awake  two 
hours  before  the  cook.  She  dressed  herself,  stepping 
011  tiptoe  about  her  room,  looked  out  at  the  little 
square,  started  to  go  downstairs  and  was  struck  with 
amazement  by  the  beauties  of  the  staircase.  She 
stopped  to  examine  all  its  details :  the  painted  walls, 
the  brasses,  the  various  ornamentations,  the  window 
fixtures.  Then  she  went  down  to  the  garden-door,  but 
was  unable  to  open  it,  and  returned  to  her  room  to 
wait  until  Adele  should  be  stirring.  As  soon  as  the 
woman  went  to  the  kitchen  Pierrette  flew  to  the 
garden  and  took  possession  of  it,  ran  to  the  river, 
was  amazed  at  the  kiosk,  and  sat  down  in  it ;  truly, 
she  had  enough  to  see  and  to  wonder  at  until  her 
cousins  were  up.     At  breakfast  Sylvie  said  to  her :  — 

44  Was  it  you,  little  one,  who  was  trotting  over 
my  head  by  daybreak,  and"  making  that  racket  on 
the  stairs?  You  woke  me  so  that  I  couldn't  go  to 
sleep  again.  You  must  be  very  good  and  quiet,  and 
amuse  3'ourself  without  noise.  Your  cousin  does  n't 
like  noise." 

44  And    3'ou    must  wipe  your  feet,"   said    Rogron. 


Pierrette.  83 

"you  went  into  the  kiosk  with  }Tour  dirty  shoes,  and 
they  've  tracked  all  over  the  floor.  Your  cousin  likes 
cleanliness.  A  great  girl  like  you  ought  to  be  clean. 
Were  n't  you  clean  in  Brittany?  But  I  recollect  when 
I  went  down  there  to  buy  thread  it  was  pitiable  to 
see  the  folks,  —  they  were  like  savages.  At  any  rate 
she  has  a  good  appetite,"  added  Rogron,  looking  at  his 
sister;  "one  would  think  she  hadn't  eaten  anything 
for  days." 

Thus,  from  the  very  start  Pierrette  was  hurt  by  the 
remarks  of  her  two  cousins,  —  hurt,  she  knew  not  why. 
Her  straightforward,  open  nature,  hitherto  left  to  it- 
self, was  not  given  to  reflection.  Incapable  of  thinking 
that  her  cousins  were  hard,  she  was  fated  to  find  it  out 
slowly  through  suffering.  After  breakfast  the  brother 
and  sister,  pleased  with  Pierrette's  astonishment  at  the 
house  and  anxious  to  enjoy  it,  took  her  to  the  salon 
to  show  her  its  splendors  and  teach  her  not  to  touch 
them.  Many  celibates,  driven  by  loneliness  and  the 
moral  necessity  of  caring  for  something,  substitute 
factitious  affections  for  natural  ones ;  they  love  dogs, 
cats,  canaries,  servants,  or  their  confessor.  Rogron 
and  Sylvie  had  come  to  the  pass  of  loving  immoderately 
their  house  and  furniture,  which  had  cost  them  so  dear. 
Sylvie  began  by  helping  Adele  in  the  mornings  to  dust 
and  arrange  the  furniture,  under  pretence  that  she  did 
not  know  how  to  keep  it  looking  as  good  as  new.    This 


84  Pierrette. 

dusting  was  soon  a  desired  occupation  to  her,  and  the 
furniture,  instead  of  losing  its  value  in  her  ej'es,  became 
ever  more  precious.  To  use  things  without  hurting 
them  or  soiling  them  or  scratching  the  woodwork  or 
clouding  the  varnish,  that  was  the  problem  which  soon 
became  the  mania  of  the  old  maid's  life.  Sylvie  had 
a  closet  full  of  bits  of  wool,  wax,  varnish,  and  brushes, 
which  she  had  learned  to  use  with  the  dexterity  of  a 
cabinet-maker;  she  had  her  feather  dusters  and  her 
dusting-cloths ;  and  she  rubbed  away  without  fear  of 
hurting  herself,  —  she  was  so  strong.  The  glance  of 
her  cold  blue  eye,  hard  as  steel,  was  forever  roving 
over  the  furniture  and  under  it,  and  you  could  as  soon 
have  found  a  tender  spot  in  her  heart  as  a  bit  of  fluff 
under  the  sofa. 

After  the  remarks  made  at  Madame  Tiphaine's, 
Sylvie  dared  not  flinch  from  the  three  hundred  francs 
for  Pierrette's  clothes.  During  the  first  week  her  time 
was  wholly  taken  up,  and  Pierrette's  too,  by  frocks  to 
order  and  try  on,  chemises  and  petticoats  to  cut  out 
and  have  made  by  a  seamstress  who  went  out  by  the 
day.     Pierrette  did  not  know  how  to  sew. 

"  That 's  pretty  bringing  up  !  "  said  Rogron.  "  Don't 
j-ou  know  how  to  do  anything,  little  girl  ?  " 

Pierrette,  who  knew  nothing  but  how  to  love,  made 
a  pretty,  childish  gesture. 

"What  did  3'ou  do  in  Brittany?  "  asked  Eogron. 


Pierrette.  85 

"I  pla}Ted,"  she  answered,  naively.  "  Ever}Tbody 
played  with  me.  Grandmamma  and  grandpapa  they 
told  me  stories.     Ah  !  they  all  loved  me  !  " 

"  Hey !  "  said  Rogron  ;  "  did  n't  you  take  it  easy !  " 

Pierrette  opened  her  e}7es  wide,  not  comprehending. 

*  She  is  as  stupid  as  an  owl,"  said  Sylvie  to  Made- 
moiselle Borain,  the  best  seamstress  in  Provins. 

kt  She's  so  young,"  said  the  workwoman,  looking 
kindly  at  Pierrette,  whose  delicate  little  muzzle  was 
turned  up  to  her  with  a  coaxing  look. 

Pierrette  preferred  the  sewing-women  to  her  rela- 
tions. She  was  endearing  in  her  ways  with  them,  she 
watched  their  work,  and  made  them  those  pretty 
speeches  that  seem  like  the  flowers  of  childhood,  and 
which  her  cousin  had  already  silenced,  for  that  gaunt 
woman  loved  to  impress  those  under  her  with  salutary 
awe.  The  sewing-women  were  delighted  with  Pierrette. 
Their  work,  however,  was  not  carried  on  without  many 
and  loud  grumblings. 

"That  child  will  make  us  pay  through  the  nose!" 
cried  Sylvie  to  her  brother. 

"  Stand  still,  my  dear,  and  don't  plague  us  ;  it  is  all 
for  3'ou  and  not  for  me,"  she  would  say  to  Pierrette 
when  the  child  was  being  measured.  Sometimes  it  was, 
when  Pierrette  would  ask  the  seamstress  some  question, 
"  Let  Mademoiselle  Borain  do  her  work,  and  don't  talk 
to  her ;  it  is  not  you  who  are  paying  for  her  time." 


86  Pierrette. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  Mademoiselle  Borain,  "ami 
to  back-stitch  this?" 

"  Yes,  do  it  firmly  ;  I  don't  want  to  be  making  such 
an  outfit  as  this  every  daj\" 

Sylvie  put  the  same  spirit  of  emulation  into  Pierrette's 
outfit  that  she  had  formerly  put  into  the  house.  She 
was  determined  that  her  cousin  should  be  as  well 
dressed  as  Madame  Garceland's  little  girl.  She  bought 
the  child  fashionable  boots  of  bronzed  kid  like  those  the 
little  Tiphaines  wore,  ver}^  fine  cotton  stockings,  a  corset 
by  the  best  maker,  a  dress  of  blue  reps,  a  pretty  cape 
lined  with  white  silk,  —  all  this  that  she,  Sylvie,  might 
hold  her  own  against  the  children  of  the  women  who 
had  rejected  her.  The  underclothes  were  quite  in  keep- 
ing with  the  visible  articles  of  dress,  for  Sylvie  feared 
the  examining  eyes  of  the  various  mothers.  Pierrette's 
chemises  were  of  fine  Madapolam  calico.  Mademoiselle 
Borain  had  mentioned  that  the  sub-prefect's  little  girls 
wore  cambric  drawers,  embroidered  and  trimmed  in  the 
latest  style.  Pierrette  had  the  same.  Sylvie  ordered 
for  her  a  charming  little  drawn  bonnet  of  blue  velvet 
lined  with  white  satin,  precisely  like  the  one  worn  by 
Dr.  Martener's  little  daughter. 

Thus  attired,  Pierrette  was  the  most  enchanting  little 
girl  in  all  Provins.  On  Sunda}-,  after  church,  all  the 
ladies  kissed  her;  Mesdames  Tiphaine,  Garoeland,  Ga- 
lardon,  Julliard,  and  the  rest  fell  in  love  with  the  sweet 


Pierrette.  87 

little  Breton  girl.  This  enthusiasm  was  deeply  flatter- 
ing to  old  Sylvie's  self-love  ;  she  regarded  it  as  less  due 
to  Pierrette  than  to  her  own  benevolence.  She  ended, 
however,  in  being  affronted  by  her  cousin's  success. 
Pierrette  was  constantly  invited  out,  and  Sylvie  allowed 
her  to  go,  always  for  the  purpose  of  triumphing  over 
u  those  ladies."  Pierrette  was  much  in  demand  for 
games  or  little  parties  and  dinners  with  their  own  little 
girls.  She  had  succeeded  where  the  Rogrons  had 
failed ;  and  Mademoiselle  Sylvie  soon  grew  indignant 
that  Pierrette  was  asked  to  other  children's  houses 
when  those  children  never  came  to  hers.  The  artless 
little  thing  did  not  conceal  the  pleasure  she  found  in 
her  visits  to  these  ladies,  whose  affectionate  manners 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  harshness  of  her  two 
cousins.  A  mother  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  happi- 
ness of  her  little  one,  but  the  Rogrons  had  taken  Pier- 
rette for  their  own  sakes,  not  for  hers ;  their  feelings, 
far  from  being  parental,  were  dyed  in  selfishness  and  a 
sort  of  commercial  calculation. 

The  handsome  outfit,  the  fine  Sunday  dresses,  and 
the  every-day  frocks  were  the  beginning  of  Pierrette's 
troubles.  Like  all  children  free  to  amuse  themselves, 
who  are  accustomed  to  follow  the  dictates  of  their  own 
lively  fancies,  she  was  very^hard  on  her  clothes,  her 
shoes,  and  above  all  on  those  embroidered  drawers. 
A  mother  when  she  reproves  her  child  thinks  only  of 


88  Pierrette. 

the  child ;  her  voice  is  gentle ;  she  does  not  raise  it 
unless  driven  to  extremities,  or  when  the  child  is  much 
in  fault  But  here,  in  this  great  matter  of  Pierrette's 
clothes,  the  cousins'  money  was  the  first  consideration  ; 
their  interests  were  to  be  thought  of,  not  the  child's. 
Children  have  the  perceptions  of  the  canine  race  for  the 
sentiments  of  those  who  rule  them  ;  they  know  instinct- 
ively whether  they  are  loved  or  only  tolerated.  Pure  and 
innocent  hearts  are  more  distressed  by  shades  of  dif- 
ference than  by  contrasts  ;  a  child  does  not  understand 
evil,  but  it  knows  when  the  instinct  of  the  good  and  the 
beautiful  which  nature  has  implanted  in  it  is  shocked. 
The  lectures  which  Pierrette  now  drew  upon  herself  on 
propriety  of  behavior,  modesty,  and  economy  were 
merely  the  corollary  of  the  one  theme,  "Pierrette  will 
ruin  us." 

These  perpetual  fault-findings,  which  were  destined 
to  have  a  fatal  result  for  the  poor  child,  brought  the 
two  celibates  back  to  the  old  beaten  track  of  their 
shop-keeping  habits,  from  which  their  removal  to  Pro- 
vins  had  parted  them,  and  in  which  their  natures  were 
now  to  expand  and  flourish.  Accustomed  in  the  old 
days  to  rule  and  to  make  inquisitions,  to  order  about 
and  reprove  their  clerks  sharply,  Rogron  and  his  sister 
had  actually  suffered  for  want  of  victims.  Little  minds 
need  to  practise  despotism  to  relieve  their  nerves,  just 
as  great  souls  thirst  for  equality  in  friendship  to  ex- 


Pierrette.  89 

ercise  their  hearts.  Narrow  natures  expand  by  perse- 
cuting as  much  as  others  through  beneficence ;  they 
prove  their  power  over  their  fellows  by  cruel  tyranny 
as  others  do  by  loving-kindness ;  they  simply  go  the 
way  their  temperaments  drive  them.  Add  to  this  the 
propulsion  of  self-interest  and  you  may  read  the  enigma 
of  most  social  matters. 

Thenceforth  Pierrette  became  a  necessity  to  the 
lives  of  her  cousins.  From  the  day  of  her  coming 
their  minds  were  occupied,  —  first,  with  her  outfit,  and 
then  with  the  novelty  of  a  third  presence.  But  every 
new  thing,  a  sentiment  and  even  a  tyranny,  is  moulded 
as  time  goes  on  into  fresh  shapes.  Sylvie  began  by 
calling  Pierrette  "my  dear,"  or  "little  one."  Then 
she  abandoned  the  gentler  terms  for  "  Pierrette"  only. 
Her  reprimands,  at  first  only  cross,  became  sharp  and 
angry ;  and  no  sooner  were  their  feet  on  the  path  of 
fault-finding  than  the  brother  and  sister  made  rapid 
strides.  They  were  no  longer  bored  to  death !  It  was 
not  their  deliberate  intention  to  be  wicked  and  cruel ; 
it  was  simply  the  blind  instinct  of  an  imbecile  tyranny. 
The  pair  believed  they  were  doing  Pierrette  a  service, 
just  as  they  had  thought  their  harshness  a  benefit  to 
their  apprentices. 

Pierrette,  whose  true  and  noble  and  extreme  sensi- 
bility was  the  antipodes  of  the  Rogrons'  hardness, 
had  a  dread  of  being  scolded ;    it  wounded  her  so 


90  Pierrette. 

sharply  that  the  tears  would  instantly  start  in  her 
beautiful,  pure  eyes.  She  had  a  great  struggle  with 
herself  before  she  could  repress  the  enchanting  spright- 
liness  which  made  her  so  great  a  favorite  elsewhere. 
After  a  time  she  displayed  it  only  in  the  homes  of 
her  little  friends.  By  the  end  of  the  first  month  she 
had  learned  to  be  passive  in  her  cousins'  house,  —  so 
much  so  that  Rogron  one  da}r  asked  her  if  she  was 
ill.  At  that  sudden  question,  she  ran  to  the  end  of 
the  garden,  and  stood  crying  beside  the  river,  into 
which  her  tears  may  have  fallen  as  she  herself  was 
about  to  fall  into  the  social  torrent. 

One  day,  in  spite  of  all  her  care,  she  tore  her 
best  reps  frock  at  Madame  Tiphaine's,  where  she  was 
spending  a  happy  day.  The  poor  child  burst  into  tears, 
foreseeing  the  cruel  things  which  would  be  said  to  her  at 
home.  Questioned  by  her  friends,  she  let  fall  a  few 
words  about  her  terrible  cousin.  Madame  Tiphaine 
happened  to  have  some  reps  exactly  like  that  of  the 
frock,  and  she  put  in  a  new  breadth  herself.  Made- 
moiselle Rogron  found  out  the  trick,  as  she  expressed 
it,  which  the  little  devil  had  played  her.  From  that 
day  forth  she  refused  to  let  Pierrette  go  to  any  of 
''those  women's"  houses. 

The  life  the  poor  girl  led  in  Provins  was  divided 
into  three  distinct  phases.  The  first,  already  shown, 
in  which  she  had  some  joy  mingled  with  the  cold  kind- 


Pierrette.  91 

ness  of  her  cousins  and  their  sharp  reproaches,  lasted 
three  months.  Sylvie's  refusal  to  let  her  go  to  her 
little  friends,  backed  by  the  necessity  of  beginning  her 
education,  ended  the  first  phase  of  her  life  at  Provins, 
the  only  period  when  that  life  was  bearable  to  her. 

These  events,  produced  at  the  Rogrons  by  Pierrette's 
presence,  were  studied  by  Vinet  and  the  colonel  with 
the  caution  of  foxes  preparing  to  enter  a  poultry-yard 
and  disturbed  by  seeing  a  strange  fowl.  They  both 
called  from  time  to  time,  —  but  seldom,  so  as  not  to 
alarm  the  old  maid;  they  talked  with  Rogron  under 
various  pretexts,  and  made  themselves  masters  of  his 
mind  with  an  affectation  of  reserve  and  modesty  which 
the  great  Tartufe  himself  would  have  respected.  The 
colonel  and  the  law}Ter  were  spending  the  evening  with 
Rogron  on  the  very  day  when  S}*lvie  had  refused  in 
bitter  language  to  let  Pierrette  go  again  to  Madame 
Tiphaine's,  or  elsewhere.  Being  told  of  this  refusal  the 
colonel  and  the  lawyer  looked  at  each  other  with  an 
air  which  seemed  to  say  that  they  at  least  knew  Provins 
well. 

"  Madame  Tiphaine  intended  to  insult  you,"  said  the 
lawyer.  **  We  have  long  been  warning  Rogron  of 
what  would  happen.  There  's  no  good  to  be  got  from 
those  people." 

"What  can  you  expect  from  the  anti-national 
party !  "  cried  the  colonel,  twirling  his  moustache  and 


92  Pierrette. 

interrupting  the  lawyer.  "But,  mademoiselle,  if  we 
had  tried  to  wean  you  from  those  people  you  might 
have  supposed  we  had  some  malicious  motive  in  what 
we  said.  If  you  like  a  game  of  cards  in  the  evening, 
wiry  don't  you  have  it  at  home  ;  why  not  play  }^our  bos- 
ton here,  in  your  own  house?  Is  it  impossible  to  fill  the 
places  of  those  idiots,  the  Julliards  and  all  the  rest  of 
them?  Vinet  and  I  know  how  to  play  boston,  and  we 
can  easity  find  a  fourth.  Vinet  might  present  his  wife 
to  you ;  she  is  charming,  and,  what  is  more,  a  Charge- 
boeuf.  You  will  not  be  so  exacting  as  those  apes  of  the 
Upper  town  ;  you  won't  require  a  good  little  housewife, 
who  is  compelled  by  the  meanness  of  her  family  to  do 
her  own  work,  to  dress  like  a  duchess.  Poor  woman, 
she  has  the  courage  of  a  lion  and  the  meekness  of 
a  lamb." 

Sylvie  Rogron  showed  her  long  yellow  teeth  as  she 
smiled  on  the  colonel,  who  bore  the  sight  heroically 
and  assumed  a  flattered  air. 

"If  we  are  only  four  we  can't  play  boston  every 
night,"  said  Sylvie. 

"  Why  not?  What  do  you  suppose  an  old  soldier  of 
the  Empire  like  me  does  with  himself?  And  as  for 
Vinet,  his  evenings  are  always  free.  Besides,  you  '11 
have  plenty  of  other  visitors  ;  I  warrant  you  that,"  he 
added,  with  a  rather  mysterious  air. 

"  What  you  ought  to  do,"  said  Vinet,  u  is  to  take  an 


Pierrette.  93 

open  stand  against  the  ministerials  of  Provins  and 
form  an  opposition  to  them.  You  would  soon  see  how 
popular  that  would  make  you ;  you  would  have  a 
society  about  you  at  once.  The  Tiphaines  would  be 
furious  at  an  opposition  salon.  Well,  well,  why  not 
laugh  at  others,  if  others  laugh  at  you  ?  —  and  they  do  ; 
the  clique  does  n't  mince  matters  in  talking  about 
you." 

"  How  's  that?  "  demanded  Sylvie. 

In  the  provinces  there  is  always  a  valve  or  a  faucet 
through  which  gossip  leaks  from  one  social  set  to  an- 
other. Vinet  knew  all  the  slurs  cast  upon  the  Rogrons 
in  the  salons  from  which  they  were  now  excluded. 
The  deputy-judge  and  archaeologist  Desfondrilles  be- 
longed to  neither  party.  With  other  independents  like 
him,  he  repeated  what  he  heard  on  both  sides  and 
Vinet  made  the  most  of  it.  The  lawyer's  spiteful 
tongue  put  venom  into  Madame  Tiphaine's  speeches, 
and  by  showing  Rogron  and  Sylvie  the  ridicule  they 
had  brought  upon  themselves  he  roused  an  undying 
spirit  of  hatred  in  those  bitter  natures,  which  needed  an 
object  for  their  petty  passions. 

A  few  days  later  Vinet  brought  his  wife,  a  well-bred 
woman,  neither  pretty  nor  plain,  timid,  very  gentle, 
and  deeply  conscious  of  her  false  position.  Madame 
Vinet  was  fair-complexioned,  faded  by  the  cares  of 
her  poor  household,   and  very   simply   dressed.     No 


94  Pierrette, 

woman  could  have  pleased  Sylvie  more.  Madame 
Vinet  endured  her  airs,  and  bent  before  them  like  one 
accustomed  to  subjection.  On  the  poor  woman's 
rounded  brow  and  delicately  timid  cheek  and  in  her 
slow  and  gentle  glance,  were  the  traces  of  deep  reflec- 
tion, of  those  perceptive  thoughts  which  women  who 
are  accustomed  to  suffer  bury  in  total  silence. 

The  influence  of  the  colonel  (who  now  displayed  to 
Sylvie  the  graces  of  a  courtier,  in  marked  contradiction 
to  his  usual  military  brusqueness) ,  together  with  that  of 
the  astute  Vinet,  was  soon  to  harm  the  Breton  child. 
Shut  up  in  the  house,  no  longer  allowed  to  go  out  ex- 
cept in  company  with  her  old  cousin,  Pierrette,  that 
pretty  little  squirrel,  was  at  the  mercy  of,  the  inces- 
sant cry,  "  Don't  touch  that,  child,  let  that  alone !  " 
She  was  perpetually  being  lectured  on  her  carriage 
and  behavior ;  if  she  stooped  or  rounded  her  shoulders, 
her  cousin  would  call  to  her  to  be  as  erect  as  herself 
(Sylvie  was  rigid  as  a  soldier  presenting  arms  to  his 
colonel)  ;  sometimes  indeed  the  ill-natured  old  maid  en- 
forced the  order  by  slaps  on  the  back  to  make  the  girl 
straighten  up. 

Thus  the  free  and  joyous  little  child  of  the  Marais 
learned  by  degrees  to  repress  all  liveliness  and  to  make 
herself,  as  best  she  could,  an  automaton. 


Pierrette.  95 


HISTORY   OF   POOR   COUSINS   IN   THE   HOME    OF   RICH 
ONES. 

One  evening,  which  marked  the  beginning  of  Pier- 
rette's second  phase  of  life  in  her  cousin's  house,  the 
child,  whom  the  three  guests  had  not  seen  during  the 
evening,  came  into  the  room  to  kiss  her  relatives  and 
say  good-night  to  the  company.  Sylvie  turned  her 
cheek  coldly  to  the  pretty  creature,  as  if  to  avoid  kiss- 
ing her.  The  motion  was  so  cruelly  significant  that  the 
tears  sprang  to  Pierrette's  eyes. 

"Did  you  prick  yourself,  little  girl?"  said  the 
atrocious  Vinet. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Sylvie,  severely. 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  poor  child,  going  up  to  Rogron. 

"  Nothing?"  said  Sylvie,  "  that's  nonsense  ;  nobody 
cries  for  nothing." 

"What  is  it,  my  little  darling?"  said  Madame 
Vinet. 

'*  My  rich  cousin  is  n't  as  kind  to  me  as  my  poor 
grandmother  was,"  sobbed  Pierrette. 

"Your  grandmother  took  your  money,"  said  Sylvie, 
"  and  your  cousin  will  leave  you  hers." 


96  Pierrette. 

The  colonel  and  the  law}rer  glanced  at  each  other. 

"  I  would  rather  be  robbed  and  loved,"  said 
Pierrette. 

11  Then  3-ou  shall  be  sent  back  whence  you  came." 

"But  what  has  the  dear  little  thing  done?"  asked 
Madame  Vinet. 

Vinet  gave  his  wife  the  terrible,  fixed,  cold  look  with 
which  men  enforce  their  absolute  dominion.  The 
hapless  helot,  punished  incessantly  for  not  having  the 
one  thing  that  was  wanted  of  her,  a  fortune,  took  up 
her  cards. 

"What  has  she  done?"  said  Sylvie,  throwing  up 
her  head  with  such  violence  that  the  yellow  wall- 
flowers in  her  cap  nodded.  "  She  is  always  looking 
about  to  annoy  us.  She  opened  my  watch  to  see 
the  inside,  and  meddled  with  the  wheel  and  broke  the 
mainspring.  Mademoiselle  pa}Ts  no  heed  to  what  is 
said  to  her.  I  am  all  day  long  telling  her  to  take 
care  of  things,  and  I  might  just  as  well  talk  to  that 
lamp." 

Pierrette,  ashamed  at  being  reproved  before  strangers, 
crept  softly  out  of  the  room. 

"I  am  thinking  all  the  time  how  to  subdue  that 
child,"  said  Rogron. 

"Isn't  she  old  enough  to  go  to  school?"  asked 
Madame  Vinet. 

Again  she  was  silenced  by  a  look  from  her  husband, 


Pierrette.  97 

who  had  been  careful  to  tell  her  nothing  of  his  own  or 
the  colonel's  schemes. 

"  This  is  what  comes  of  taking  charge  of  other 
people's  children  !  "  cried  the  colonel.  "  You  may  still 
have  some  of  your  own,  you  or  your  brother.  Why 
don't  you  both  marry?" 

Sylvie  smiled  agreeably  on  the  colonel.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  met  a  man  to  whom  the  idea 
that  she  could  marry  did  not  seem  absurd. 

"  Madame  Vinet  is  right,"  cried  Rogron  ;  "  perhaps 
teaching  would  keep  Pierrette  quiet.  A  master  would  n't 
cost  much." 

The  colonel's  remark  so  preoccupied  Sylvie  that  she 
made  no  answer  to  her  brother. 

11  If  3'ou  are  willing  to  be  security  for  that  opposition 
journal  I  was  talking  to  }rou  about,"  said  Vinet,  "  you 
will  find  an  excellent  master  for  the  little  cousin  in 
the  managing  editor;  we  intend  to  engage  that  poor 
schoolmaster  who  lost  his  employment  through  the 
encroachments  of  the  clerg}\  My  wife  is  right; 
Pierrette  is  a  rough  diamond  that  wants  polishing." 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  baron,"  said  Sylvie  to  the 
colonel,  while  the  cards  were  being  dealt,  and  after  a 
long  pause  in  which  they  had  all  been  rather  thoughtful. 

"  Yes  ;  but  when  I  was  made  baron,  in  1814,  after  the 
battle  of  Nangis,  where  my  regiment  performed  mira- 
cles, I  had  money  and  influence  enough  to  secure  the 

7 


98  Pierrette. 

rank.  But  now  my  barony  is  like  the  grade  of  general 
which  I  held  in  1815,  —  it  needs  a  revolution  to  give 
it  back  to  me." 

"If  you  will  secure  my  endorsement  by  a  mortgage," 
said  Rogron,  answering  Vinet  after  long  consideration, 
"I  will  give  it." 

"  That  can  easily  be  arranged,"  said  Vinet.  "The 
new  paper  will  soon  restore  the  colonel's  rights,  and 
make  your  salon  more  powerful  in  Provins  than  those 
of  Tiphaine  and  company." 

"  How  so?  "  asked  Sylvie. 

While  his  wife  was  dealing  and  Vinet  himself  ex- 
plaining the  importance  they  would  all  gain  by  the 
publication  of  an  independent  newspaper,  Pierrette 
was  dissolved  in  tears ;  her  heart  and  her  mind  were 
one  in  this  matter ;  she  felt  and  knew  that  her  cousin 
was  more  to  blame  than  she  was.  The  little  country  girl 
instinctively  understood  that  charity  and  benevolence 
ought  to  be  a  complete  offering.  She  hated  her  hand- 
some frocks  and  all  the  things  that  were  made  for  her ; 
she  was  forced  to  pay  too  dearly  for  such  benefits.  She 
wept  with  vexation  at  having  given  cause  for  complaint 
against  her,  and  resolved  to  behave  in  future  in  such  a 
way  as  to  compel  her  cousins  to  find  no  further  fault 
with  her.  The  thought  then  came  into  her  mind  how 
grand  Brigaut  had  been  in  giving  her  all  his  savings 
without  a  word.     Poor  child !  she  fancied  her  troubles 


Pierrette.  99 

were  now  at  their  worst ;  she  little  knew  that  other 
misfortunes  were  even  now  being  planned  for  her  in 
the  salon. 

A  few  days  later  Pierrette  had  a  writing-master.  She 
was  taught  to  read,  write,  and  cipher.  Enormous  injury 
was  thus  supposed  to  be  done  to  the  Rogrons'  house. 
Ink-spots  were  found  on  the  tables,  on  the  furniture,  on 
Pierrette's  clothes  ;  copy-books  and  pens  were  left  about ; 
sand  was  scattered  everywhere,  books  were  torn  and 
dog's-eared  as  the  result  of  these  lessons.  She  was  told 
in  harsh  terms  that  she  would  have  to  earn  her  own 
living,  and  not  be  a  burden  to  others.  As  she  listened 
to  these  cruel  remarks  Pierrette's  throat  contracted 
violently  with  acute  pain,  her  heart  throbbed.  She  was 
forced  to  restrain  her  tears,  or  she  was  scolded  for 
weeping  and  told  it  was  an  insult  to  the  kindness  of 
her  magnanimous  cousins.  Rogron  had  found  the  life 
that  suited  him.  He  scolded  Pierrette  as  he  used  to 
scold  his  clerks ;  he  would  call  her  when  at  pla}',  and 
compel  her  to  study ;  he  made  her  repeat  her  lessons, 
and  became  himself  the  almost  savage  master  of  the 
poor  child.  Sylvie,  on  her  side,  considered  it  a  duty 
to  teach  Pierrette  the  little  that  she  knew  herself  about 
women's  work.  Neither  Rogron  nor  his  sister  had  the 
slightest  softness  in  their  natures.  Their  narrow  minds, 
which  found  real  pleasure  in  worrying  the  poor  child, 
passed  insensibly  from  outward  kindness  to  extreme 


100  Pierrette. 

severity.  This  severity  was  necessitated,  they  believed, 
by  what  they  called  the  self-will  of  the  child,  which  had 
not  been  broken  when  young  and  was  veiy  obstinate. 
Her  masters  were  ignorant  how  to  give  to  their  instruc- 
tions a  form  suited  to  the  intelligence  of  the  pupil,  — 
a  thing,  by  the  bye,  which  marks  the  difference  between 
public  and  private  education.  The  fault  was  far  less 
with  Pierrette  than  with  her  cousins.  It  took  her  an 
infinite  length  of  time  to  learn  the  rudiments.  She 
was  called  stupid  and  dull,  clumsy  and  awkward  for 
mere  nothings.  Incessantly  abused  in  words,  the  child 
suffered  still  more  from  the  harsh  looks  of  her  cousins. 
She  acquired  the  doltish  ways  of  a  sheep ;  she  dared 
not  do  an}Tthing  of  her  own  impulse,  for  all  she  did 
was  misinterpreted,  misjudged,  and  ill-received.  In  all 
things  she  awaited  silentlj'  the  good  pleasure  and  the 
orders  of  her  cousins,  keeping  her  thoughts  within  her 
own  mind  and  sheltering  herself  behind  a  passive  obedi- 
ence. Her  brilliant  colors  began  to  fade.  Sometimes 
she  complained  of  feeling  ill.  When  her  cousin  asked, 
"  Where?"  the  poor  little  thing,  who  had  pains  all 
over  her,  answered,  "  Everywhere." 

"  Nonsense !  who  ever  heard  of  any  one  suffering 
everywhere?"  cried  Sylvie.  "  If  you  suffered  every- 
where you  'd  be  dead." 

"  People  suffer  in  their  chests,"  said  Rogron,  who 
liked  to  hear  himself  harangue,  "or  they  have  toothache, 


Pierrette.  101 

headache,  pains  in  their  feet  or  stomach,  but  no  one 
has  pains  everywhere.  What  do  you  mean  by  every- 
where ?  I  can  tell  you  ;  ■  everywhere  '  means  nowhere. 
Don't  you  know  what  you  are  doing  ?  —  you  are  com- 
plaining for  complaining's  sake." 

Pierrette  ended  by  total  silence,  seeing  how  all  her 
girlish  remarks,  the  flowers  of  her  dawning  intelligence, 
were  replied  to  with  ignorant  commonplaces  which  her 
natural  good  sense  told  her  were  ridiculous. 

"  You  complain,"  said  Rogron,  "  but  you  've  got  the 
appetite  of  a  monk." 

The  only  person  who  did  not  bruise  the  delicate 
little  flower  was  the  fat  servant- woman,  Adele.  Adele 
would  go  up  and  warm  her  bed,  —  doing  it  on  the  sly 
after  a  certain  evening  when  Sylvie  had  scolded  her 
for  giving  that  comfort  to  the  child. 

"  Children  should  be  hardened,  to  give  them  strong 
constitutions.  Am  I  and  my  brother  the  worse  for 
it?  "  said  Sylvie.  "  You  '11  make  Pierrette  zpeakling;  " 
this  was  a  word  in  the  Rogron  vocabulary  which  meant 
a  puny  and  suffering  little  being. 

The  naturally  endearing  ways  of  the  angelic  child 
were  treated  as  dissimulation.  The  fresh,  pure  blossoms 
of  affection  which  bloomed  instinctively  in  that  young 
soul  were  pitilessly  crushed.  Pierrette  suffered  many  a 
cruel  blow  on  the  tender  flesh  of  her  heart.  If  she  tried 
to  soften  those  ferocious  natures  by  innocent,  coaxing 


102  Pierrette. 

wiles  they  accused  her  of  doing  it  with  an  object 
"Tell  me  at  once  what  you  want?"  Rogron  would 
sa}7,  brutallj* ;  "  you  are  not  coaxing  me  for  nothing." 

Neither  brother  nor  sister  believed  in  affection,  and 
Pierrette's  whole  being  was  affection.  Colonel  Gouraud, 
anxious  to  please  Mademoiselle  Rogron,  approved  of 
all  she  did  about  Pierrette.  Vinet  also  encouraged 
them  in  what  they  said  against  her.  He  attributed  all 
her  so-called  misdeeds  to  the  obstinacy  of  the  Breton 
character,  and  declared  that  no  power,  no  will,  could 
ever  conquer  it.  Rogron  and  his  sister  were  so 
shrewdly  flattered  b}'  the  two  manoeuvrers  that  the 
former  agreed  to  go  security  for  the  "  Courrier  de 
Provins,"  and  the  latter  invested  five  thousand  francs 
in  the  enterprise. 

On  this,  the  colonel  and  lawyer  took  the  field.  The}* 
got  a  hundred  shares,  of  five  hundred  francs  each,  taken 
among  the  farmers  and  others  called  independents,  and 
also  among  those  who  had  bought  lands  of  the  national 
domains,  —  whose  fears  they  worked  upon.  They  even 
extended  their  operations  through  the  department  and 
along  its  borders.  Each  shareholder  of  course  sub- 
scribed to  the  paper.  The  judicial  advertisements  were 
divided  between  the  "  Bee-hive,"  and  the  "  Courrier." 
The  first  issue  of  the  latter  contained  a  pompous  eulogy 
on  Rogron.  He  was  presented  to  the  community  as  the 
Laffitte  of  Provins.     The   public    mind  having    thus 


Pierrette.  103 

received  an  impetus  in  this  new  direction,  it  was 
manifest,  of  course,  that  the  coming  elections  would  be 
contested.  Madame  Tiphaine,  whose  highest  hope  was 
to  take  her  husband  to  Paris  as  deputy,  was  in  despair. 
After  reading  an  article  in  the  new  paper  aimed  at  her 
and  at  Julliard  junior,  she  remarked:  " Unfortunately 
for  me,  I  forgot  that  there  is  always  a  scoundrel  close  to 
a  dupe,  and  that  fools  are  magnets  to  clever  men  of  the 
fox  breed." 

As  soon  as  the  ' '  Courrier "  was  fairly  launched  on 
a  radius  of  fifty  miles,  Vinet  bought  a  new  coat  and 
decent  boots,  waistcoats,  and  trousers.  He  set  up  the 
gray  slouch  hat  sacred  to  liberals,  and  showed  his 
linen.  His  wife  took  a  servant,  and  appeared  in  public 
dressed  as  the  wife  of  a  prominent  man  should  be  ;  her 
caps  were  pretty.  Vinet  proved  grateful  —  out  of 
policy.  He  and  his  friend  Cournant,  the  liberal  notary 
and  the  rival  of  the  ministerial  notary  Auffray,  became 
the  close  advisers  of  the  Rogrons,  to  whom  they  were 
able  to  do  a  couple  of  signal  services.  The  leases 
granted  by  old  Rogron  their  father  in  1815,  when 
matters  were  at  a  low  ebb,  were  about  to  expire. 
Horticulture  and  vegetable  gardening  had  developed 
enormously  in  the  neighborhood  of  Provins.  The 
lawyer  and  notary  set  to  work  to  enable  the  Rogrons 
to  increase  their  rentals.  Vinet  won  two  lawsuits 
against  two  districts  on  a  question  of  planting  trees, 


104  Pierrette. 

which  involved  five  hundred  poplars.  The  proceeds  of 
the  poplars,  added  to  the  savings  of  the  brother  and 
sister,  who  for  the  last  three  years  had  laid  by  six 
thousand  a  year  at  high  interest,  was  wisely  invested  in 
the  purchase  of  improved  lands.  Vinet  also  undertook 
and  carried  out  the  ejectment  of  certain  peasants  to 
whom  the  elder  Rogron  had  lent  money  on  their  farms, 
and  who  had  strained  every  nerve  to  pay  off  the  debt, 
but  in  vain.  The  cost  of  the  Rogrons'  fine  house  was 
thus  in  a  measure  recouped.  Their  landed  property, 
lying  around  Provins  and  chosen  by  their  father  with 
the  sagacious  eye  of  an  innkeeper,  was  divided  into 
small  holdings,  the  largest  of  which  did  not  exceed 
five  acres,  and  rented  to  safe  tenants,  men  who  owned 
other  parcels  of  land,  that  were  ample  security  for  their 
leases.  These  investments  brought  in,  by  1826,  five 
thousand  francs  a  }rear.  Taxes  were  charged  to  the 
tenants,  and  there  were  no  buildings  needing  insurance 
or  repairs. 

By  the  end  of  the  second  period  of  Pierrette's  stay  in 
Provins  life  had  become  so  hard  for  her,  the  cold  in- 
difference of  all  who  came  to  the  house,  the  silly  fault- 
finding, and  the  total  absence  of  affection  on  the  part  of 
her  cousins  grew  so  bitter,  she  was  so  conscious  of  a  chill 
dampness  like  that  of  a  grave  creeping  round  her,  that 
the  bold  idea  of  escaping,  on  foot  and  without  money, 
to  Brittany  and  to  her  grandparents  took  possession  of 


Pierrette.  105 

her  mind.  Two  events  hindered  her  from  attempting  it. 
Old  Lorrain  died,  and  Rogron  was  appointed  guardian 
of  his  little  cousin.  If  the  grandmother  had  died  first, 
we  may  believe  that  Rogron,  advised  by  Vinet,  would 
have  claimed  Pierrette's  eight  thousand  francs  and 
reduced  the  old  man  to  penury. 

"You  may,  perhaps,  inherit  from  Pierrette,"  said 
Vinet,  with  a  horrid  smile.  "  Who  knows  who  may  live 
and  who  may  die  ?  " 

Enlightened  by  that  remark,  Rogron  gave  old  Ma- 
dame Lorrain  no  peace  until  she  had  secured  to  Pierrette 
the  reversion  of  the  eight  thousand  francs  at  her  death. 

Pierrette  was  deeply  shocked  by  these  events.  She 
was  on  the  point  of  making  her  first  communion, — 
another  reason  for  resigning  the  hope  of  escape  from 
Provins.  This  ceremony,  simple  and  customary  as  it 
was,  led  to  great  changes  in  the  Rogron  household. 
Sylvie  learned  that  Monsieur  le  cure  Peroux  was  in- 
structing the  little  Julliards,  Lesourds,  Garcelands,  and 
the  rest.  She  therefore  made  it  a  point  of  honor  that 
Pierrette  should  be  instructed  by  the  vicar  himself, 
Monsieur  Habert,  a  priest  who  was  thought  to  belong 
to  the  Congregation,  very  zealous  for  the  interests  of 
the  Church,  and  much  feared  in  Provins,  —  a  man  who 
hid  a  vast  ambition  beneath  the  austerity  of  stern  prin- 
ciples. The  sister  of  this  priest,  an  unmarried  woman 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  kept  a  school   for  young 


106  Pierrette. 

ladies.     Brother   and   sister  looked  alike ;   both  were 
thin,  yellow,  black-haired,  and  bilious. 

Like  a  true  Breton  girl,  cradled  in  the  practices  and 
poetry  of  Catholicism,  Pierrette  opened  her  heart  and 
ears  to  the  words  of  this  imposing  priest.  Sufferings 
predispose  the  mind  to  devotion,  and  nearty  all  3'oung 
girls,  impelled  by  instinctive  tenderness,  are  inclined 
to  mysticism,  the  deepest  aspect  of  religion.  The 
priest  found  good  soil  in  which  to  sow  the  seed  of  the 
Gospel  and  the  dogmas  of  the  Church.  He  completely 
changed  the  current  of  the  girl's  thoughts.  Pierrette 
loved  Jesus  Christ  in  the  light  in  which  he  is  presented 
to  young  girls  at  the  time  of  their  first  communion,  as  a 
celestial  bridegroom  ;  her  physical  and  moral  sufferings 
gained  a  meaning  for  her ;  she  saw  the  finger  of  God 
in  all  things.  Her  soul,  so  cruelly  hurt  although  she 
could  not  accuse  her  cousins  of  actual  wrong,  took  refuge 
in  that  sphere  to  which  all  sufferers  fly  on  the  wings 
of  the  cardinal  virtues,  — Faith,  Hope,  Charity.  She 
abandoned  her  thoughts  of  escape.  Sylvie,  surprised 
by  the  transformation  Monsieur  Habert  had  effected 
in  Pierrette,  was  curious  to  know  how  it  had  been  done. 
And  it  thus  came  about  that  the  austere  priest,  while 
preparing  Pierrette  for  her  first  communion,  also  won 
to  God  the  hitherto  erring  soul  of  Mademoiselle  Sylvie. 
Sylvie  became  pious.  Jerome  Rogron,  on  whom  the 
so-called  Jesuit   could  get  no  grip  (for  just  then  the 


Pierrette.  107 

influence  of  His  Majesty  the  late  Constitutionnel  the 
First  was  more  powerful  over  weaklings  than  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Church),  Jerome  Rogron  remained  faithful 
to  Colonel  Gouraud,  Vinet,  and  Liberalism. 

Mademoiselle  Rogron  naturally  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mademoiselle  Habert,  witli  whom  she  sympa- 
thized deeply.  The  two  spinsters  loved  each  other 
as  sisters.  Mademoiselle  Habert  offered  to  take  Pier- 
rette into  her  school  to  spare  Sylvie  the  annoyance  of 
her  education  ;  but  the  brother  and  sister  both  declared 
that  Pierrette's  absence  would  make  the  house  too 
lonely ;  their  attachment  to  their  little  cousin  seemed 
excessive. 

When  Gouraud  and  Vinet  became  aware  of  the  ad- 
vent of  Mademoiselle  Habert  on  the  scene  they  con- 
cluded that  the  ambitious  priest  her  brother  had  the 
same  matrimonial  plan  for  his  sister  that  the  colonel 
was  forming  for  himself  and  Sylvie. 

"Your  sister  wants  to  get  you  married,"  said  Vinet 
to  Rogron. 

"  With  whom?  "  asked  Rogron. 

"  With  that  old  sorceress  of  a  schoolmistress,"  cried 
the  colonel,  twirling  his  moustache. 

"She  hasn't  said  anything  to  me  about  it,"  said 
Rogron,  naively. 

So  thorough  an  old  maid  as  Sylvie  was  certain  to 
make  good   progress   in   the  way  of  salvation.     The 


108  Pierrette. 

influence  of  the  priest  would  as  certainly  increase, 
and  in  the  end  affect  Rogron,  over  whom  Sylvie  had 
great  power.  The  two  Liberals,  who  were  naturally 
alarmed,  saw  plainly  that  if  the  priest  were  resolved 
to  marry  his  sister  to  Rogron  (a  far  more  suitable 
marriage  than  that  of  Sylvie  to  the  colonel)  he  could 
then  drive  Sylvie  in  extreme  devotion  to  the  Church, 
and  put  Pierrette  in  a  convent.  They  might  there- 
fore lose  eighteen  months'  labor  in  flattery  and  mean- 
nesses of  all  sorts.  Their  minds  were  suddenly  filled 
with  a  bitter,  silent  hatred  to  the  priest  and  his  sis- 
ter, though  they  felt  the  necessity  of  living  on  good 
terms  with  them  in  order  to  track  their  manoeuvres. 
Monsieur  and  Mademoiselle  Habert,  who  could  play 
both  whist  and  boston,  now  came  every  evening  to 
the  Rogrons.  The  assiduity  of  the  one  pair  induced 
the  assiduity  of  the  other.  The  colonel  and  lawyer 
felt  that  they  were  pitted  against  adversaries  who  were 
fully  as  strong  as  they,  —  a  presentiment  that  was  shared 
by  the  priest  and  his  sister.  The  situation  soon  be- 
came that  of  a  battle-field.  Precisely  as  the  colonel 
was  enabling  Sylvie  to  taste  the  unhoped-for  j'03's  of 
being  sought  in  marriage,  so  Mademoiselle  Habert  was 
enveloping  the  timid  Rogron  in  the  cotton-wool  of  her 
attentions,  words,  and  glances.  Neither  side  could 
utter  that  grand  word  of  statesmanship,  u  Let  us  di- 
vide ! "  for  each  wanted  the  whole  pre}'. 


Pierrette.  109 

The  two  clever  foxes  of  the  Opposition  made  the 
mistake  of  pulling  the  first  trigger.  Vinet,  under  the 
spur  of  self-interest,  bethought  himself  of  his  wife's 
only  friends,  and  looked  up  Mademoiselle  de  Charge- 
boeuf and  her  mother.  The  two  women  were  living  in 
poverty  at  Troyes  on  two  thousand  francs  a  year. 
Mademoiselle  Bathilde  de  Chargeboeuf  was  one  of 
those  fine  creatures  who  believe  in  marriage  for  love 
up  to  their  twenty-fifth  year,  and  change  their  opinion 
when  they  find  themselves  still  unmarried.  Vinet  man- 
aged to  persuade  Madame  de  Chargeboeuf  to  join  her 
means  to  his  and  live  with  his  family  in  Provins,  where 
Bathilde,  he  assured  her,  could  marry  a  fool  named 
Rogron,  and,  clever  as  she  was,  take  her  place  in  the 
best  society  of  the  place. 

The  arrival  of  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  de  Charge- 
boeuf in  the  lawyer's  household  was  a  great  reinforce- 
ment for  the  liberal  party  ;  and  it  created  consternation 
among  the  aristocrats  of  Provins  and  also  in  the 
Tiphaine  clique.  Madame  de  Breaute}^,  horrified  to 
see  two  women  of  rank  so  misled,  begged  them  to 
come  to  her.  She  was  shocked  that  the  royalists  of 
Tro3Tes  had  so  neglected  the  mother  and  daughter, 
whose  situation  she  now  learned  for  the  first  time. 

"  How  is  it  that  no  old  country  gentleman  has 
married  that  dear  girl,  who  is  cut  out  for  a  lady  of 
the   manor?"  she  said.     "They  have  let  her  run   to 


110  Pierrette. 

seed,   and  now  she  is  to  be  flung  si  the  head  of  a 


She  ransacked  the  whole  department  bat  did  not 
fincntd  in  finding  »ny  gentleman  willing  to  many 
a  girl  whose  mother  had  only  two  thousand  francs 
a  year.  The  u  clique  "  and  the  subprefect  also  looked 
about  them  with  the  same  object,  but  they  were  all 
too  late.  Madame  de  Breautey  made  terrible  charges 
which  degraded  France,  —  the 
of  materialism,  and  of  the 
now  given  by  the  laws  to  money :  nobility 
was  no  longer  of  value!  nor  beauty  either!  Sock 
creatures  as  the  Bogrons,  the  Yinets,  could  stand  up 
and  fight  with  the  King  of  France! 

Bathilde  de  Chargebceuf  had  not  only  the  incon- 
testable superiority  of  beauty  over  her  rival,  but  that 
of  dress  as  wefl-  She  was  dazzhngly  lair.  At  twenty- 
five  her  shoulders  were  fully  developed,  and  the  curves 
of  her  beautiful  figure  were  exquisite.  The  roundness 
of  her  throat,  the  purity  of  its  lines,  the  wealth  of  her 
golden  hair,  the  charming  grace  of  her  smile,  the 
distinguished  carriage  of  her  head,  the  character  of 
her  features,  the  fine  eyes  finely  placed  beneath  a 
well-formed  brow,  her  every  motion,  noble  and  high- 
bred, and  her  light  and  graceful  figure,  —  all  were  in 
harmony.  Her  hands  were  beautiful,  and  her  feet 
Health  gave  her,   perhaps,   too  much  the 


Pitrrette.  Ill 

look  of  a  handsome  barmaid.  "  But  that  can't  be  a 
defect  in  the  eyes  of  a  Region,"  sighed  MucUiw 
Tiphaine.  Mademoiselle  de  ChargebceuFs  dress  when 
she  made  her  first  appearance  in  ProTins  at  the  Ro- 
grons'  house  was  very  simple.  Her  brown 
edged  with  green  embroidery  was  worn 
bat  a  tulle  fichu,  carefully  drawn  down  by 
strings,  covered  her  neck  and  shoulders,  though  it 
opened  a  little  in  front,  where  its  folds  were  caught 
together  with  a  tevigne.  Beneath  this  delicate  fabric 
Bathilde's  beauties  seemed  all  the  more  enticing  and 
coquettish.  She  took  off  her  velvet  bonnet  and  her 
shawl  on  arriving,  and  showed  her  pretty  ears  adorned 
with  what  were  then  called  ■  ear-drops  "  in  gold.  She 
wore  a  little  Jetmmette — a  black  velvet  ribbon  with  a 
heart  attached  —  round  her  throat,  where  it  shone  like 
the  jet  ring  which  fantastic  nature  has  fastened  round 
the  tail  of  a  white  angora  cat  She  knew  all  the  little 
tricks  of  a  girl  who  seeks  to  marry ;  her  fingers  ar- 
ranged her  curls  which  were  not  in  the  least  out  of 
order;  she  entreated  Rogron  to  fasten  a  cuff-button, 
thus  showing  him  her  wrist,  a  request  which  that 
dazzled  fool  rudely  refused,  hiding  his  emotions  under 
the  mask  of  indifference.  The  timidity  of  the  only 
love  he  was  ever  to  feel  in  the  whole  coarse  of  his 
life  took  an  external  appearance  of  dislike.  Sylvie 
and  her  friend  Celeste  Habert  were  deceived  by  it; 


112  Pierrette. 

not  so  Vinet,  the  wise  head  of  this  doltish  circle,  among 
whom  no  one  really  coped  with  him  but  the  priest,  —  the 
colonel  being  for  a  long  time  his  ally. 

On  the  other  hand  the  colonel  was  behaving  to  Sylvie 
very  much  as  Bathilde  behaved  to  Rogron.  He  put  on 
a  clean  shirt  every  evening  and  wore  velvet  stocks, 
which  set  off  his  martial  features  and  the  spotless  white 
of  his  collar.  He  adopted  the  fashion  of  white  pique 
waistcoats,  and  caused  to  be  made  for  him  a  new  sur- 
tout  of  blue  cloth,  on  which  his  red  rosette  glowed 
finely;  all  this  under  pretext  of  doing  honor  to  the 
new  guests  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf. 
He  even  refrained  from  smoking  for  two  hours  previous 
to  his  appearance  in  the  Rogrons'  salon.  His  grizzled 
hair  was  brushed  in  a  waving  line  across  a  cranium 
which  was  ochre  in  tone.  He  assumed  the  air  and 
manner  of  a  party  leader,  of  a  man  who  was  pre- 
paring to  drive  out  the  enemies  of  France,  the  Bour- 
bons, in  short,  to  beat  of  drum. 

The  satanic  lawyer  and  the  wily  colonel  played  the 
priest  and  his  sister  a  more  cruel  trick  than  even  the 
importation  of  the  beautiful  Mademoiselle  de  Charge- 
boeuf, who  was  considered  03-  all  the  Liberal  party  and 
by  Madame  de  Br6autey  and  her  aristocratic  circle  to 
be  far  handsomer  than  Madame  Tiphaine.  These  two 
great  statesmen  of  the  little  provincial  town  made 
everybody  believe  that  the  priest  was  in  sympathy  with 


Pierrette.  113 

their  ideas ;  so  that  before  long  Provins  began  to  talk 
of  him  as  a  liberal  ecclesiastic.  As  soon  as  this  news 
reached  the  bishop  Monsieur  Habert  was  sent  for  and 
admonished  to  cease  his  visits  to  the  Rogrons  ;  but  his 
sister  continued  to  go  there.  Thus  the  salon  Rogron 
became  a  fixed  fact  and  a  constituted  power. 

Before  the  year  was  out  political  intrigues  were  not 
less  lively  than  the  matrimonial  schemes  of  the  Rogron 
salon.  While  the  selfish  interests  hidden  in  these 
hearts  were  struggling  in  deadly  combat  the  events 
which  resulted  from  them  had  a  fatal  celebrity.  Every- 
body knows  that  the  Villele  ministry  was  overthrown 
by  the  elections  of  1826.  Vinet,  the  Liberal  candidate 
at  Provins,  who  had  borrowed  money  of  his  notary  to 
buy  a  domain  which  made  him  eligible  for  election, 
came  very  near  defeating  Monsieur  Tiphaine,  who 
saved  his  election  by  only  two  votes.  The  head- 
quarters of  the  Liberals  was  the  Rogron  salon  ;  among 
the  habitue's  were  the  notary  Cournant  and  his  wife, 
and  Doctor  Ne>aud,  whose  youth  was  said  to  have 
been  stormy,  but  who  now  took  a  serious  view  of 
life ;  he  gave  himself  up  to  study  and  was,  according 
to  all  Liberals,  a  far  more  capable  man  than  Monsieur 
Martener,  the  aristocratic  physician.  As  for  the 
Rogrons,  they  no  more  understood  their  present 
triumph  than  they  had  formerly  understood  their 
ostracism. 


114  Pierrette. 

The  beautiful  Bathilde,  to  whom  Vinet  had  explained 
Pierrette  as  an  enemy,  was  extremely  disdainful  to  tb( 
girl.  It  seemed  as  though  everybody's  selfish  schemes 
demanded  the  humiliation  of  that  poor  victim.  Madam< 
Vinet  could  do  nothing  for  her,  ground  as  she  hersel! 
was  beneath  those  implacable  self-interests  which  th( 
lawyer's  wife  had  come  at  last  to  see  and  comprehend 
Her  husband's  imperious  will  had  alone  taken  her  to  th< 
Rogron's  house,  where  she  had  suffered  much  at  th< 
harsh  treatment  of  the  pretty  little  creature,  who  woulc 
often  press  up  against  her  as  if  divining  her  secre 
thoughts,  sometimes  asking  the  poor  lady  to  show  he: 
a  stitch  in  knitting  or  to  teach  her  a  bit  of  embroider}' 
The  child  proved  in  return  that  if  she  were  treatec 
gently  she  would  understand  what  was  taught  her,  anc 
succeed  in  what  she  tried  to  do  quite  marvellously 
But  Madame  Vinet  was  soon  no  longer  necessary  to  hei 
husband's  plans,  and  after  the  arrival  of  Madame  anc 
Mademoiselle  de  Chargebceuf  she  ceased  to  visit  the 
Rogrons. 

Sjlvie,  who  now  indulged  the  idea  of  manying, 
began  to  consider  Pierrette  as  an  obstacle.  The  gir 
was  nearly  fourteen ;  the  pallid  whiteness  of  her  skin, 
a  symptom  of  illness  entirely  overlooked  by  the  ignoranl 
old  maid,  made  her  exquisitely  lovely.  Sylvie  took  it 
into  her  head  to  balance  the  cost  which  Pierrette  had 
been  to   them   by  making   a  servant  of  her.     All  the 


Pierrette.  \\b 

habitues  of  the  boose  to  whom  she  spoke  of  the  matter 
advised  that  she  should  send  away  Adele.  Why 
should  n't  Pierrette  take  care  of  the  boose  and  cook? 
If  there  was  too  moch  work  at  any  time  Mademoiselle 
Kogron  could  easily  employ  the  colonel's  woman-of-all- 
work,  an  excellent  cook  and  a  most  respectable  person. 
Pierrette  ought  to  learn  how  to  cook,  and  rnb  floors, 
and  sweep,  said  the  lawyer ;  erery  girl  should  be  taught 
to  keep  boose  properly  and  go  to  market  and  know  the 
price  of  tilings.  The  poor  little  soot,  whose  self-devo- 
tion  was  equal  to  her  generosity,  offered  herself 
willingly,  pleased  to  think  that  she  could  earn  the 
bitter  bread  which  she  ate  in  that  boose.  Adele  was 
sent  away,  and  Pierrette  thus  lost  the  only  person  who 
might  hare  protected  her. 

In  spite  of  the  poor  child's  strength  of  heart  she  was 
henceforth  crashed  down  physically  as  well  as  mentally. 
Her  cousins  had  less  consideration  for  her  than  for  a 
she  belonged  to  them !  She  was  scolded  for 
nothings,  for  an  atom  of  dost  left  on  a  glass  globe 
or  a  marble  mantelpiece.  The  handsome  ornaments  she 
had  once  admired  now  became  odious  to  her.  Ho 
how  she  strove  to  do  right,  her  inexorable 
always  found  soww'thisg  to  reprove  in  whatever 
she  did.  In  the  coarse  of  two  years  Pierrette  never 
received  the  slightest  praise,  or  heard  a  kindly  word. 
Happiness  for  her  lay  in  not  being  scolded.    She  bore 


116  Pierrette. 

with  angelic  patience  the  morose  ill-humor  of  the  two 
celibates,  to  whom  all  tender  feelings  were  absolutely 
unknown,  and  who  daily  made  her  feel  her  dependence 
on  them. 

Such  a  life  for  a  3'oung  girl,  pressed  as  it  were  be- 
tween the  two  chops  of  a  vise,  increased  her  illness 
She  began  to  feel  violent  internal  distresses,  secrel 
pangs  so  sudden  in  their  attacks  that  her  strength  was 
undermined  and  her  natural  development  arrested 
By  slow  degrees  and  through  dreadful,  though  hidder 
sufferings,  the  poor  child  came  to  the  state  in  whicl 
the  companion  of  her  childhood  found  her  when  he 
sang  to  her  his  Breton  ditty  at  the  dawn  of  the  Octobei 
day. 


Pierrette.  117 


VI. 

AN   OLD   MAID'S    JEALOUSY. 

Before  we  relate  the  domestic  drama  which  the 
coming  of  Jacques  Brigaut  was  destined  to  bring  about 
in  the  Rogron  family  it  is  best  to  explain  how  the  lad 
came  to  be  in  Provins ;  for  he  is,  as  it  were,  a  some- 
what mute  personage  on  the  scene. 

When  he  ran  from  the  house  Brigaut  was  not  only 
frightened  by  Pierrette's  gesture,  he  was  horrified  by 
the  change  he  saw  in  his  little  friend.  He  could 
scarcely  recognize  the  voice,  the  eyes,  the  gestures 
that  were  once  so  lively,  gay,  and  withal  so  tender. 
When  he  had  gained  some  distance  from  the  house  his 
legs  began  to  tremble  under  him  ;  hot  flushes  ran  down 
his  back.  He  had  seen  the  shadow  of  Pierrette,  but  not 
Pierrette  herself !  The  lad  climbed  to  the  Upper  town  till 
he  found  a  spot  from  which  he  could  see  the  square  and 
the  house  where  Pierrette  lived.  He  gazed  at  it  mourn- 
fully, lost  in  many  thoughts,  as  though  he  were  enter- 
ing some  grief  of  which  he  could  not  see  the  end. 
Pierrette  was  ill ;  she  was  not  happy ;  she  pined  for 
Brittany  —  what  was  the  matter  with  her?    All  these 


118  Pierrette. 

questions  passed  and  repassed  through  his  heart  and 
rent  it,  revealing  to  his  own  soul  the  extent  of  his 
love  for  his  little  adopted  sister. 

It  is  extremely  rare  to  find  a  passion  existing  be- 
tween two  children  of  opposite  sexes.  The  charming 
story  of  Paul  and  Virginia  does  not,  any  more  than 
this  of  Pierrette  and  Brigaut,  answer  the  question  put 
by  that  strange  moral  fact.  Modern  historj'  offers  only 
the  illustrious  instance  of  the  Marchesa  di  Pescara  and 
her  husband.  Destined  to  marry  by  their  parents  from 
their  earliest  years,  they  adored  each  other  and  were 
married,  and  their  union  gave  to  the  sixteenth  century 
the  noble  spectacle  of  a  perfect  conjugal  love  without  a 
flaw.  When  the  marchesa  became  a  widow  at  the  age 
of  thirty-four,  beautiful,  intellectually  brilliant,  univer- 
sally adored,  she  refused  to  marry  sovereigns  and 
buried  herself  in  a  convent,  seeing  and  knowing  thence- 
forth only  nuns.  Such  was  the  perfect  love  that 
suddenly  developed  itself  in  the  heart  of  the  Breton 
workman.  Pierrette  and  he  had  often  protected  each 
other ;  with  what  bliss  had  he  given  her  the  money  for 
her  journey ;  he  had  almost  killed  himself  by  running 
after  the  diligence  when  she  left  him.  Pierrette  had 
known  nothing  of  all  that ;  but  for  him  the  recollection 
had  warmed  and  comforted  the  cold,  hard  life  he  had 
led  for  the  last  three  years.  For  Pierrette's  sake  he 
had  struggled  to  improve  himself;  he  had  learned  his 


Pierrette.  119 

trade  for  Pierrette  ;  he  had  come  to  Paris  for  Pierrette, 
intending  to  make  his  fortune  for  her.  After  spending 
a  fortnight  in  the  city,  he  had  not  been  able  to  hold 
out  against  the  desire  to  see  her,  and  he  had  walked 
from  Saturday  night  to  Monday  morning.  He  intended 
to  return  to  Paris ;  but  the  moving  sight  of  his  little 
friend  nailed  him  to  Proving.  A  wonderful  magnetism 
(still  denied  in  spite  of  many  proofs)  acted  upon  him 
without  his  knowledge.  Tears  rolled  from  his  eyes 
when  they  rose  in  hers.  If  to  her  he  was  Brittany 
and  her  happy  childhood,  to  him  she  was  life  itself. 

At  sixteen  years  of  age  Brigaut  did  not  yet  know 
how  to  draw  or  to  model  a  cornice  ;  he  was  ignorant  of 
much,  but  he  had  earned,  by  piece-work  done  in  the 
leisure  of  his  apprenticeship,  some  four  or  five  francs  a 
day.  On  this  he  could  live  in  Provins  and  be  near 
Pierrette ;  he  would  choose  the  best  cabinet-maker  in 
the  town,  and  learn  the  rest  of  his  trade  in  working  for 
him,  and  thus  keep  watch  over  his  darling. 

Brigaut's  mind  was  made  up  as  he  sat  there  thinking. 
He  went  back  to  Paris  and  fetched  his  certificate,  tools, 
and  baggage,  and  three  days  later  he  was  a  journey- 
man in  the  establishment  of  Monsieur  Frappier,  the 
best  cabinet-maker  in  Provins.  Active,  steady  work- 
men, not  given  to  junketing  and  taverns,  are  so  rare 
that  masters  hold  to  young  men  like  Brigaut  when  they 
find  them.     To  end  Brigaut's  history  on  this  point,  we 


1 20  Pierrette. 

will  say  here  that  by  the  end  of  the  month  he  was 
made  foreman,  and  was  fed  and  lodged  by  Frappier, 
who  taught  him  arithmetic  and  line  drawing.  The 
house  and  shop  were  in  the  Grand'Rue,  not  a  hundred 
feet  from  the  little  square  where  Pierrette  lived. 

Brigaut  buried  his  love  in  his  heart  and  committed 
no  imprudence.  He  made  Madame  Frappier  tell  him  all 
she  knew  about  the  Rogrons.  Among  other  things, 
she  related  to  him  the  way  in  which  their  father  had 
laid  hands  on  the  property  of  old  Auffray,  Pierrette's 
grandfather.  Brigaut  obtained  other  information  as  to 
the  character  of  the  brother  and  sister.  He  met  Pier- 
rette sometimes  in  the  market  with  her  cousin,  and 
shuddered  to  see  the  heavy  basket  she  was  carrying  on 
her  arm.  On  Sunda3Ts  he  went  to  church  to  look  at 
her,  dressed  in  her  best  clothes.  There,  for  the  first 
time,  he  became  aware  that  Pierrette  was  Mademoiselle 
Lorrain.  Pierrette  saw  him  and  made  him  a  hasty 
sign  entreating  him  to  keep  out  of  sight.  To  him, 
there  was  a  world  of  things  in  that  little  gesture,  as 
there  had  been,  a  fortnight  earlier,  in  the  sign  by 
which  she  told  him  from  her  window  to  run  away.  Ah  ! 
what  a  fortune  he  must  make  in  the  coming  ten  years 
in  order  to  marry  his  little  friend,  to  whom,  he  was 
told,  the  Rogrons  were  to  leave  their  house,  a  hundred 
acres  of  land,  and  twelve  thousand  francs  a  year,  not 
counting  their  savings ! 


Pierrette.  121 

The  persevering  Breton  was  determined  to  be  thor- 
oughly educated  for  his  trade,  and  he  set  about  acquir- 
ing all  the  knowledge  that  he  lacked.  As  long  as  only 
the  principles  of  his  work  were  concerned  he  could 
learn  those  in  Provins  as  well  as  in  Paris,  and  thus 
remain  near  Pierrette,  to  whom  he  now  became  anxious 
to  explain  his  projects  and  the  sort  of  protection  she 
could  rely  on  from  him.  He  was  determined  to  know 
the  reason  of  her  pallor,  and  of  the  debility  which  was 
beginning  to  appear  in  the  organ  which  is  always  the 
last  to  show  the  signs  of  failing  life,  namely  the  eyes  ; 
he  would  know,  too,  the  cause  of  the  sufferings  which 
gave  her  that  look  as  though  death  were  near  and  she 
might  drop  at  any  moment  beneath  its  scythe.  The 
two  signs,  the  two  gestures  —  not  denying  their  friend- 
ship but  imploring  caution  —  alarmed  the  young  Breton. 
Evidently  Pierrette  wished  him  to  wait  and  not  attempt 
to  see  her ;  otherwise  there  was  danger,  there  was  peril 
for  her.  As  she  left  the  church  she  was  able  to  give 
him  one  look,  and  Brigaut  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  But  he  could  have  sooner  squared  the  circle 
than  have  guessed  what  had  happened  in  the  Rogrons' 
house  during  the  fortnight  which  had  elapsed  since  his 
arrival. 

It  was  not  without  keen  apprehensions  that  Pier- 
rette came  downstairs  on  the  morning  after  Brigaut 
had  invaded  her  morning  dreams  like  another  dream. 


122  Pierrette. 

She  was  certain  that  her  cousin  Sylvie  must  have  heard 
the  song,  or  she  would  not  have  risen  and  opened  her 
window ;  but  Pierrette  was  ignorant  of  the  powerful 
reasons  that  made  the  old  maid  so  alert.  For  the  last 
eight  days,  strange  secret  events  and  bitter  feelings  agi- 
tated the  minds  of  the  chief  personages  who  frequented 
the  Rogron  salon.  These  hidden  matters,  carefully  con- 
cealed by  all  concerned,  were  destined  to  fall  in  their 
results  like  an  avalanche  on  Pierrette.  Such  nrysterious 
things,  which  we  ought  perhaps  to  call  the  putrescence 
of  the  human  heart,  lie  at  the  base  of  the  greatest  revolu- 
tions, political,  social  or  domestic ;  but  in  telling  of  them 
it  is  desirable  to  explain  that  their  subtle  significance 
cannot  be  given  in  a  matter-of-fact  narrative.  These 
secret  schemes  and  calculations  do  not  show  themselves 
as  brutally  and  undisguisedly  while  taking  place  as  they 
must  when  the  history  of  them  is  related.  To  set  down 
in  writing  the  circumlocutions,  oratorical  precautions, 
protracted  conversations,  by  which  minds  intentionally 
darkened  knowledge,  and  honeyed  words  glossed  over 
the  venom  of  intentions,  would  make  as  long  a  book  as 
that  magnificent  poem  called  "  Clarissa  Harlowe." 

Mademoiselle  Habert  and  Mademoiselle  Sylvie  were 
equally  desirous  of  marrying,  but  one  was  ten  years 
older  than  the  other,  and  the  probabilities  of  life  al- 
lowed Celeste  Habert  to  expect  that  her  children  would 
inherit  all  the  Rogron  property.     Sylvie  was  forty-two, 


Pierrette.  123 

an  age  at  which  marriage  is  beset  by  perils.  In  confid- 
ing to  each  other  their  ideas,  Celeste,  instigated  by  her 
vindictive  brother  the  priest,  enlightened  Sylvie  as  to 
the  dangers  she  would  incur.  Sylvie  trembled;  she 
was  terribly  afraid  of  death,  an  idea  which  shakes  all 
celibates  to  their  centre.  But  just  at  this  time  the 
Martignac  ministry  came  into  power,  —  a  Liberal  victory 
which  overthrew  the  Villele  administration.  The  Vinet 
party  now  carried  their  heads  high  in  Provins.  Vinet 
himself  became  a  personage.  The  Liberals  prophesied 
his  advancement;  he  would  certainly  be  deputy  and 
attorney-general.  As  for  the  colonel,  he  would  be 
made  mayor  of  Provins.  Ah,  to  reign  as  Madame 
Garceland,  the  wife  of  the  present  mayor,  now  reigned  ! 
Sj'lvie  could  not  hold  out  against  that  hope ;  she 
determined  to  consult  a  doctor,  though  the  proceeding 
would  only  cover  her  with  ridicule.  To  consult  Mon- 
sieur N£raud,  the  Liberal  plrysician  and  the  rival  of 
Monsieur  Martener,  would  be  a  blunder.  Celeste 
Habert  offered  to  hide  S}ivie  in  her  dressing-room 
while  she  herself  consulted  Monsieur  Martener,  the 
physician  of  her  establishment,  on  this  difficult  matter. 
Whether  Martener  was,  or  was  not,  Celeste's  accom- 
plice need  not  be  discovered ;  at  any  rate  he  told  his 
client  that  even  at  thirty  the  danger,  though  slight,  did 
exist.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  with  your  constitution,  you 
need  fear  nothing." 


124  Pierrette. 

"  But  how  about  a  woman  over  forty  ?  "  asked  Made- 
moiselle Celeste. 

*  A  married  woman  who  has  had  children  has  noth- 
ing to  fear." 

"  But  I  mean  an  unmarried  woman,  like  Mademoi- 
selle Rogron,  for  instance?" 

M  Oh,  that's  another  thing,"  said  Monsieur  Martener. 
"  Successful  childbirth  is  then  one  of  those  miracles 
which  God  sometimes  allows  himself,  but  rarely." 

"Why?"  asked  Celeste. 

The  doctor  answered  with  a  terrifying  pathological 
description ;  he  explained  that  the  elasticity  given  by 
nature  to  }Touthful  muscles  and  bones  did  not  exist  at 
a  later  age,  especially  in  women  whose  lives  were 
sedentary. 

11  So  you  think  that  an  unmarried  woman  ought  not 
to  marry  after  forty  ?  " 

11  Not  unless  she  waits  some  years,"  replied  the 
doctor.  "  But  then,  of  course,  it  is  not  marriage,  it  is 
only  an  association  of  interests." 

The  result  of  the  interview,  clearly,  seriously,  scien- 
tifically and  sensibly  stated,  was  that  an  unmarried 
woman  would  make  a  great  mistake  in  marrying  after 
forty.  When  the  doctor  had  departed  Mademoiselle 
Celeste  found  Sylvie  in  a  frightful  state,  green  and 
yellow,  and  with  the  pupils  of  her  eyes  dilated. 

"  Then  you  really  love  the  colonel?  "  asked  Celeste. 


Pierrette.  125 

"I  still  hoped,"  replied  Sylvie. 

"  Well  then,  wait !  "  cried  Mademoiselle  Habert,  jesu- 
itically,  aware  that  time  would  rid  her  of  the  colonel. 

Sylvie's  new  devotion  to  the  church  warned  her  that 
the  morality  of  such  a  marriage  might  be  doubtful. 
She  accordingly  sounded  her  conscience  in  the  confes- 
sional. The  stern  priest  explained  the  opinions  of  the 
Church,  which  sees  in  marriage  only  the  propagation  of 
humanity,  and  rebukes  second  marriages  and  all  pas- 
sions but  those  with  a  social  purpose.  Sylvie's  per- 
plexities were  great.  These  internal  struggles  gave 
extraordinary  force  to  her  passion,  investing  it  with 
that  inexplicable  attraction  which,  from  the  days  of 
Eve,  the  thing  forbidden  possesses  for  women.  Made- 
moiselle Rogron's  perturbation  did  not  escape  the 
lynx-eyed  law}Ter. 

One  evening,  after  the  game  had  ended,  Vinet  ap- 
proached his  dear  friend  Sjlvie,  took  her  hand,  and 
led  her  to  a  sofa. 

"  Something  troubles  you,"  he  said. 

She  nodded  sadly.  The  lawyer  let  the  others  de- 
part ;  Rogron  walked  home  with  the  Chargebceufs,  and 
when  Vinet  was  alone  with  the  old  maid  he  wormed 
the  truth  out  of  her. 

"  Cleverly  played,  abbe" !  "  thought  he.  "But  you  've 
played  into  my  hands." 

The  foxy  lawyer  was  more  decided  in  his  opinion 


12(3  Pierrette. 

than  even  the  doctor.  He  advised  marriage  in  ten 
years.  Inwardty  he  was  vowing  that  the  whole  Rogron 
fortune  should  go  to  Bathilde.  He  rubbed  his  hands, 
his  pinched  lips  closed  more  tightty  as  he  hurried  home. 
The  influence  exercised  by  Monsieur  Habert,  physician 
of  the  soul,  and  by  Vinet,  doctor  of  the  purse,  balanced 
each  other  perfectly.  Rogron  had  no  piety  in  him  ;  so 
the  churchman  and  the  man  of  law,  the  black-robed 
pair,  were  fairly  matched. 

On  discovering  the  victory  obtained  by  Celeste,  in 
her  anxiety  to  marry  Rogron  herself,  over  Sylvie,  torn 
between  the  fear  of  death  and  the  joy  of  being  baron- 
ness  and  ma}roress,  the  lawyer  saw  his  chance  of  driving 
the  colonel  from  the  battlefield.  He  knew  Rogron  well 
enough  to  be  certain  he  could  marry  him  to  Bathilde ; 
Jer6me  had  already  succumbed  inwardly  to  her  charms, 
and  Vinet  knew  that  the  first  time  the  pair  were  alone 
together  the  marriage  would  be  settled.  Rogron  had 
reached  the  point  of  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  Celeste, 
so  much  did  he  fear  to  look  at  Bathilde.  Vinet  had  now 
possessed  himself  of  Sylvie's  secrets,  and  saw  the  force 
with  which  she  loved  the  colonel.  He  fully  understood 
the  struggle  of  such  a  passion  in  the  heart  of  an  old 
maid  who  was  also  in  the  grasp  of  religious  emotion, 
and  he  saw  his  way^  to  rid  himself  of  Pierrette  and  the 
colonel  both  by  making  each  the  cause  of  the  other's 
overthrow. 


Pierrette.  12T 


The  next  day,  after  the  court  had  risen,  Vinet  met 
the  colonel  and  Rogron  taking  a  walk  together,  accord- 
ing to  their  daily  custom. 

Whenever  the  three  men  were  seen  in  company  the 
whole  town  talked  of  it.  This  triumvirate,  held  in 
horror  by  the  sub-prefect,  the  magistrac}',  and  the 
Tiphaine  clique,  was,  on  the  other  hand,  a  source  of 
pride  and  vanity  to  the  Liberals  of  Provins.  Vinet 
was  sole  editor  of  the  "  Courrier  "  and  the  head  of  the 
party  ;  the  colonel,  the  working  manager,  was  its  arm  ; 
Rogron,  by  means  of  his  purse,  its  nerves.  The 
Tiphaines  declared  that  the  three  men  were  always 
plotting  evil  to  the  government;  the  Liberals  admired 
them  as  the  defenders  of  the  people.  When  Rogron 
turned  to  go  home,  recalled  by  a  sens.e  of  his  dinner- 
hour,  Vinet  stopped  the  colonel  from  following  him  by 
taking  Gouraud's  arm. 

"  Well,  colonel,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  take  a  fear- 
ful load  off  your  shoulders ;  you  can  do  better  than 
marry  Sylvie  ;  if  you  play  your  cards  properly  you  can 
marry  that  little  Pierrette  in  two  years'  time." 

He  thereupon  related  the  Jesuit's  manoeuvre  and  its 
effect  on  Sylvie. 

"What  a  skulking  trick!"  cried  the  colonel ;  "and 
spreading  over  years,  too !  " 

lt  Colonel,"  said  Vinet,  gravely,  "  Pierrette  is  a 
charming  creature  ;   with  her  you  can  be  happy  for  the 


128  Pierrette. 

rest  of  your  life  ;  your  health  is  so  sound  that  the  dif- 
ference in  your  ages  won't  seem  disproportionate. 
But,  all  the  same,  you  must  n't  think  it  an  eas}-  thing 
to  change  a  dreadful  fate  to  a  pleasant  one.  To  turn 
a  woman  who  loves  you  into  a  friend  and  confidant  is 
as  perilous  a  business  as  crossing  a  river  under  fire  of 
the  enemy.  Cavalry  colonel  as  30U  are,  and  daring 
too,  you  must  study  the  position  and  manoeuvre  }our 
forces  with  the  same  wisdom  you  have  displayed 
hitherto,  and  which  has  won  us  our  present  position. 
If  I  get  to  be  attorney-general  you  shall  command  the 
department.  Oh  !  if  you  had  been  an  elector  we  should 
be  further  advanced  than  we  are  now ;  I  should  have 
bought  the  votes  of  those  two  clerks  by  threatening 
them  with  the  loss  of  their  places,  and  we  should  have 
had  a  majority." 

The  colonel  had  long  been  thinking  about  Pierrette, 
but  he  concealed  his  thoughts  with  the  utmost  dissimu- 
lation. His  roughness  to  the  child  was  only  a  mask ; 
but  she  could  not  understand  why  the  man  who  claimed 
to  be  her  father's  old  comrade  should  usually  treat  her 
so  ill,  when  sometimes,  if  he  met  her  alone,  he  would 
chuck  her  under  the  chin  and  give  her  a  friendly  kiss. 
But  after  the  conversation  with  Vinet  relating  to 
Sylvie's  fears  of  marriage  Gouraud  began  to  seek  op- 
portunities to  find  Pierrette  alone ;  the  rough  colonel 
made  himself  as  soft  as  a  cat ;  he  told  her  how  brave 


Pierrette.  129 

her  father  was  and  what  a  misfortune  it  had  been  for 
her  that  she  lost  him. 

A  few  days  before  Brigaut's  arrival  Sylvie  had  come 
suddenly  upon  Gouraud  and  Pierrette  talking  together. 
Instantly,  jealousy  rushed  into  her  heart  with  monastic 
violence.  Jealousy,  eminently  credulous  and  suspi- 
cious, is  the  passion  in  which  fancy  has  most  freedom, 
but  for  all  that  it  does  not  give  a  person  intelligence ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  hinders  them  from  having  any  ;  and 
in  S3Tlvie's  case  jealousy  only  filled  her  with  fantastic 
ideas.  When  (a  few  mornings  later)  she  heard  Bri- 
gaut's ditty,  she  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  man 
who  had  used  the  words  "  Madam'  la  mariee,"  address- 
ing them  to  Pierrette,  must  be  the  colonel.  She  was 
certain  she  was  right,  for  she  had  noticed  for  a  week 
past  a  change  in  his  manners.  He  was  the  only  man 
who,  in  her  solitary  life,  had  ever  paid  her  any  atten- 
tion. Consequently  she  watched  him  with  all  her  eyes, 
all  her  mind ;  and  by  giving  herself  up  to  hopes  that 
were  sometimes  flourishing,  sometimes  blighted,  she 
had  brought  the  matter  to  such  enormous  proportions 
that  she  saw  all  things  in  a  mental  mirage.  To  use  a 
common  but  excellent  expression,  by  dint  of  looking 
intently  she  saw  nothing.  Alternately  she  repelled, 
admitted,  and  conquered  the  supposition  of  this  rivalry. 
She  compared  herself  with  Pierrette  ;  she  was  forty-two 
years  old,  with  gray  hair ;  Pierrette  was  delicately  fair, 

9 


130  Pierrette. 

with  e3*cs  soft  enough  to  warm  a  withered  heart.  She  had 
heard  it  said  that  men  of  fifty  were  apt  to  love  young 
girls  of  just  that  kind.  Before  the  colonel  had  come 
regularly  to  the  house  Sylvie  had  heard  in  the  Ti- 
phaines'  salon  strange  stories  of  his  life  and  morals. 
Old  maids  preserve  in  their  love-affairs  the  exaggerated 
Platonic  sentiments  which  young  girls  of  twenty  are 
wont  to  profess ;  they  hold  to  these  fixed  doctrines 
like  all  who  have  little  experience  of  life  and  no  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  how  great  social  forces  modify, 
impair,  and  bring  to  nought  such  grand  and  noble 
ideas.  The  mere  thought  of  being  jilted  by  the  colonel 
was  torture  to  Sylvie's  brain.  She  lay  in  her  bed  going 
over  and  over  her  own  desires,  Pierrette's  conduct,  and 
the  song  which  had  awakened  her  with  the  word  "  mar- 
riage." Like  the  fool  she  was,  instead  of  looking 
through  the  blinds  to  see  the  lover,  she  opened  her 
window  without  reflecting  that  Pierrette  would  hear  her. 
If  she  had  had  the  common  instinct  of  a  spy  she  would 
have  seen  Brigaut,  and  the  fatal  drama  then  begun 
would  never  have  taken  place. 

It  was  Pierrette's  dutj^,  weak  as  she  was,  to  take 
down  the  bars  that  closed  the  wooden  shutters  of  the 
kitchen,  which  she  opened  and  fastened  back ;  then  she 
opened  in  like  manner  the  glass  door  leading  from  the 
corridor  to  the  garden.  She  took  the  vavious  brooms 
that  were  used  for  sweeping  the  carpets,  the  dining- 


Pierrette.  131 

room,  the  passages  and  stairs,  together  with  the  other 
utensils,  with  a  care  and  particularity  which  no  servant, 
not  even  a  Dutchwoman,  gives  to  her  work.  She  hated 
reproof.  Happiness  for  her  was  in  seeing  the  cold  blue 
pallid  eyes  of  her  cousin,  not  satisfied  (that  they  never 
were),  but  calm,  after  glancing  about  her  with  the  look 
of  an  owner,  —  that  wonderful  glance  which  sees  what 
escapes  even  the  most  vigilant  eyes  of  others.  Pier- 
rette's skin  was  moist  with  her  labor  when  she  returned 
to  the  kitchen  to  put  it  in  order,  and  light  the  stove 
that  she  might  carry  up  hot  water  to  her  two  cousins 
(a  luxury  she  never  had  for  herself)  and  the  means  of 
lighting  fires  in  their  rooms.  After  this  she  laid  the 
table  for  breakfast  and  lit  the  stove  in  the  dining- 
room;  For  all  these  various  fires  she  had  to  fetch 
wood  and  kindling  from  the  cellar,  leaving  the  warm 
rooms  for  a  damp  and  chilly  atmosphere.  Such  sudden 
transitions,  made  with  the  quickness  of  youth,  often  to 
escape  a  harsh  word  or  to  obey  an  order,  aggravated 
the  condition  of  her  health.  She  did  not  know  she  was 
ill,  and  yet  she  suffered.  She  began  to  have  strange 
cravings ;  she  liked  raw  vegetables  and  salads,  and  ate 
them  secretly.  The  innocent  child  was  quite  unaware 
that  her  condition  was  that  of  serious  illness  which 
needed  the  utmost  care.  If  Neraud,  the  Rogrons' 
doctor,  had  told  this  to  Pierrette  before  Brigaut's  ar- 
rival she  would  only  have  smiled ;  life  was  so  bitter 


132  Pierrette. 

she  could  smile  at  death.  But  now  her  feelings 
changed ;  the  child,  to  whose  physical  sufferings  was 
added  the  anguish  of  Breton  homesickness  (a  moral 
malady  so  well-known  that  colonels  in  the  army  allow 
for  it  among  their  men),  was  suddenly  content  to 
be  in  Provins.  The  sight  of  that  yellow  flower,  the 
song,  the  presence  of  her  friend,  revived  her  as  a 
plant  long  without  water  revives  under  rain.  Uncon- 
sciously she  wanted  to  live,  and  even  thought  she  did 
not  suffer. 

Pierrette  slipped  timidly  into  her  cousin's  bedroom, 
made  the  fire,  left  the  hot  water,  said  a  few  words,  and 
went  to  wake  Rogron  and  do  the  same  offices  for  him. 
Then  she  went  down  to  take  in  the  milk,  the  bread, 
and  the  other  provisions  left  by  the  dealers.  She  stood 
some  time  on  the  sill  of  the  door  hoping  that  Brigaut 
would  have  the  sense  to  come  to  her;  but  by  that 
time  he  was  already  on  his  way  to  Paris. 

She  had  finished  the  arrangement  of  the  dining-room 
and  was  busy  in  the  kitchen  when  she  heard  her  cousin 
Sylvie  coming  down.  Mademoiselle  Rogron  appeared 
in  a  brown  silk  dressing  gown  and  a  cap  with  bows ; 
her  false  front  was  awry,  her  night-gown  showed  above 
the  silk  wrapper,  her  slippers  were  down  at  heel.  She 
gave  an  eye  to  everything  and  then  came  straight  to 
Pierrette,  who  was  awaiting  her  orders  to  know  what 
to  prepare  for  breakfast. 


Pierrette.  133 

"Ha!  here  you  are,  lovesick  young  lady!"  said 
Sylvie,  in  a  mocking  tone. 

"  What  is  it,  cousin?  " 

"You  came  into  my  room  like  a  sly  cat,  and  you 
crept  out  the  same  way,  though  you  knew  very  well 
I  had  something  to  say  to  you." 

"Tome?" 

"  You  had  a  serenade  this  morning,  as  if  you  were 
a  princess." 

"  A  serenade  !  "  exclaimed  Pierrette. 

"A  serenade!"  said  Sylvie,  mimicking  her;  "and 
you  've  a  lover,  too." 

"  What  is  a  lover,  cousin?" 

Sylvie  avoided  answering,  and  said :  — 

"  Do  you  dare  to  tell  me,  mademoiselle,  that  a  man 
did  not  come  under  your  window  and  talk  to  you  of 
marriage  ?  " 

Persecution  had  taught  Pierrette  the  wariness  of 
slaves  ;  so  she  answered  bravely  :  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  —  " 

"  Who  means  ?  —  your  dog  ?  "  said  Sylvie,  sharply. 

"I  should  have  said  'cousin,'"  replied  the  girl, 
humbly. 

"And  didn't  you  get  up  and  go  in  your  bare  feet 
to  the  window  ?  —  which  will  give  you  an  illness  ;  and 
serve  you  right,  too.  And  perhaps  you  did  n't  talk  to 
your  lover,  either  ? " 


134  Pierrette. 

"  No,  cousin." 

"■  I  know  you  have  many  faults,  but  I  did  not  think 
you  told  lies.  You  had  better  think  this  over,  made- 
moiselle ;  you  will  have  to  explain  this  affair  to  your 
cousin  and  to  me,  or  your  cousin  will  be  obliged  to 
take  severe  measures." 

The  old  maid,  exasperated  by  jealous}'  and  curiosity, 
meant  to  frighten  the  girl.  Pierrette,  like  all  those  who 
suffer  more  than  they  have  strength  to  bear,  kept 
silence.  Silence  is  the  onty  weapon  by  which  such 
victims  can  conquer ;  it  baffles  the  Cossack  charges  of 
envy,  the  savage  skirmishing  of  suspicion ;  it  does  at 
times  give  victory,  crushing  and  complete,  —  for  what 
is  more  complete  than  silence  ?  it  is  absolute  ;  it  is  one 
of  the  attributes  of  infinity.  Sylvie  watched  Pierrette 
narrowly.  The  girl  colored ;  but  the  color,  instead  of 
rising  evenly,  came  out  in  patches  on  her  cheekbones, 
in  burning  and  significant  spots.  A  mother,  seeing 
that  sj^mptom  of  illness,  would  have  changed  her  tone 
at  once  ;  she  would  have  taken  the  child  on  her  lap  and 
questioned  her ;  in  fact,  she  would  long  ago  have  ten- 
derly understood  the  signs  of  Pierrette's  pure  and 
perfect  innocence ;  she  would  have  seen  her  weakness 
and  known  that  the  disturbance  of  the  digestive  organs 
and  the  other  functions  of  the  body  was  about  to 
affect  the  lungs.  Those  eloquent  patches  would  have 
warned  her  of  an  imminent  danger.     But  an  old  maid, 


Pierrette.  135 


one  in  whom  the  family  instincts  have  never  been 
awakened,  to  whom  the  needs  of  childhood  and  the 
precautions  required  for  adolescence  were  unknown, 
had  neither  the  indulgence  nor  the  compassionate  in- 
telligence of  a  mother ;  such  sufferings  as  those  of 
Pierrette,  instead  of  softening  her  heart  only  made 
it  more  callous. 

"  She  blushes,  she  is  guilty !  "  thought  Sylvie. 

Pierrette's  silence  was  thus  interpreted  to  her  injury. 

M  Pierrette,"  continued  Sylvie,  "  before  your  cousin 
comes  down  we  must  have  some  talk  together.  Come," 
she  said,  in  a  rather  softer  tone,  "  shut  the  street  door ; 
if  any  one  comes  they  will  ring  and  we  shall  hear 
them." 

In  spite  of  the  damp  mist  which  was  rising  from 
the  river,  Sylvie  took  Pierrette  along  the  winding 
gravel  path  which  led  across  the  lawn  to  the  edge  of 
the  rock  terrace,  —  a  picturesque  little  quay,  covered 
with  iris  and  aquatic  plants.  She  now  changed  her 
tactics,  thinking  she  might  catch*  Pierrette  tripping 
by  softness ;  the  hyena  became  a  cat. 

••  Pierrette,"  she  said,  "you  are  no  longer  a  child; 
you  are  nearly  fifteen,  and  it  is  not  at  all  surprising 
that  you  should  have  a  lover." 

"  But,  cousin,"  said  Pierrette,  raising  her  eyes  with 
angelic  sweetness  to  the  cold,  sour  face  of  her  cousin, 
"What  is  a  lover?" 


136  Pierrette. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  Sylvie  to  define  a 
lover  with  truth  and  decency  to  the  girl's  mind.  In- 
stead of  seeing  in  that  question  the  proof  of  adorable 
innocence,  she  considered  it  a  piece  of  insincerity. 

"  A  lover,  Pierrette,  is  a  man  who  loves  us  and 
wishes  to  marry  us." 

44  Ah,"  said  Pierrette,  44  when  that  happens  in  Brit- 
tany we  call  the  3Toung  man  a  suitor." 

44  Well,  remember  that  in  owning  your  feelings  for  a 
man  you  do  no  wrong,  my  dear.  The  wrong  is  in 
hiding  them.  Have  you  pleased  some  of  the  men 
who  visit  here?" 

44 1  don't  think  so,  cousin. * 

44  Do  you  love  any  of  them?  " 

44  No." 

"Certain?" 

44  Quite  certain." 

44  Look  at  me,  Pierrette." 

Pierrette  looked  at  Sylvie. 

44  A  man  called  to  you  this  morning  in  the  square." 

Pierrette  lowered  her  eyes. 

44  You  went  to  your  window,  you  opened  it,  and  you 
spoke  to  him." 

44  No  cousin,  I  went  to  look  out  and  I  saw  a 
peasant." 

44  Pierrette,  you  have  much  improved  since  you 
made  your  first  communion ;  you  have  become  pious 


Pierrette.  137 

and  obedient,  you  love  God  and  your  relations  ;  I  am  sat- 
isfied with  you.  I  don't  say  this  to  puff  you  up  with  pride." 

The  horrible  creature  had  mistaken  despondencj', 
submission,  the  silence  of  wretchedness,  for  virtues  ! 

The  sweetest  of  all  consolations  to  suffering  souls,  to 
martyrs,  to  artists,  in  the  worst  of  that  divine  agony 
which  hatred  and  envy  force  upon  them,  is  to  meet 
with  praise  where  they  have  hitherto  found  censure  and 
injustice.  Pierrette  raised  her  grateful  eyes  to  her 
cousin,  feeling  that  she  could  almost  forgive  her  for  the 
sufferings  she  had  caused. 

"But  if  it  is  all  hypocrisy,  if  I  find  you  a  serpent 
that  I  have  warmed  in  my  bosom,  you  will  be  a  wicked 
girl,  an  infamous  creature  !  " 

UI  think  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with," 
said  Pierrette,  with  a  painful  revulsion  of  her  heart  at 
the  sudden  change  from  unexpected  praise  to  the  tones 
of  the  hyena. 

"  You  know  that  to  lie  is  a  mortal  sin?  " 

14  Yes,  cousin." 

44  Well,  you  are  now  under  the  eye  of  God,"  said  the 
old  maid,  with  a  solemn  gesture  towards  the  sky  ;  M  swear 
to  me  that  you  did  not  know  that  peasant." 

44  I  will  not  swear,"  said  Pierrette. 

"  Ha  !  he  was  no  peasant,  you  little  viper." 

Pierrette  rushed  away  like  a  frightened  fawn  terrified 
at  her  tone.     Sylvie  called  her  in  a  dreadful  voice. 


138  Pierrette. 

11  The  bell  is  ringing,"  she  answered. 

"  Artful  wretch!"  thought  Sylvie.  "  She  is  de- 
praved in  mind  ;  and  now  I  am  certain  the  little  adder 
has  wound  herself  round  the  colonel.  She  has  heard 
us  say  he  was  a  baron.  To  be  a  baroness  !  little  fool ! 
Ah !  I  '11  get  rid  of  her,  I  '11  apprentice  her  out,  and 
soon  too !  " 

Sylvie  was  so  lost  in  thought  that  she  did  not  notice 
her  brother  coming  down  the  path  and  bemoaning  the 
injury  the  frost  had  done  to  his  dahlias. 

11  Sylvie!  what  are  you  thinking  about?  I  thought 
you  were  looking  at  the  fish  ;  sometimes  they  jump  out 
of  the  water." 

"No,"  said  Sylvie. 

"How  did  you  sleep?"  and  he  began  to  tell  her 
about  his  own  dreams.  "Don't  you  think  my  skin  is 
getting  tabid?"  — a  word  in  the  Rogron  vocabulary. 

Ever  since  Rogron  had  been  in  love,  —  but  let  us  not 
profane  the  word,  —  ever  since  he  had  desired  to  many 
Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf,  he  was  veiy  uneasy  about 
himself  and  his  health.  At  this  moment  Pierrette  came 
down  the  garden  steps  and  called  to  them  from  a  dis- 
tance that  breakfast  was  ready.  At  sight  of  her  cousin, 
Sylvie's  skin  turned  green  and  yellow,  her  bile  was  in 
commotion.  She  looked  at  the  floor  of  the  corridor 
and  declared  that  Pierrette  ought  to  rub  it. 

"  I  will  rub  it  now  if  you  wish,"  said  the  little  angel, 


Pierrette.  139 


not  aware  of  the  injury  such  work  may  do  to  a  young 
girl. 

The  dining-room  was  irreproachably  in  order.  Sylvie 
sat  down  and  pretended  all  through  breakfast  to  want 
this,  that,  and  the  other  thing  which  she  would  never 
have  thought  of  in  a  quieter  moment,  and  which  she 
now  asked  for  only  to  make  Pierrette  rise  again  and 
again  just  as  the  child  was  beginning  to  eat  her  food. 
But  such  mere  teasing  was  not  enough ;  she  wanted  a 
subject  on  which  to  find  fault,  and  was  angry  with  herself 
for  not  finding  one.  She  scarcely  answered  her  brother's 
silly  remarks,  yet  she  looked  at  him  only ;  her  eyes 
avoided  Pierrette.  Pierrette  was  deeply  conscious  of  all 
this.  She  brought  the  milk  mixed  with  cream  for  each 
cousin  in  a  large  silver  goblet,  after  heating  it  carefully 
in  the  bain-marie.  The  brother  and  sister  poured  in  the 
coffee  made  by  Sylvie  herself  on  the  table.  When  Syl- 
vie had  carefully  prepared  hers,  she  saw  an  atom  of 
coffee-grounds  floating  on  the  surface.  On  this  the 
storm  broke  forth. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  asked  Rogron. 

"  The  matter  is  that  mademoiselle  has  put  dust  in  my 
milk.  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  drink  coffee  with 
ashes  in  it?  Well,  I  am  not  surprised  ;  no  one  can  do 
two  things  at  once.  She  was  n't  thinking  of  the  milk  ! 
a. blackbird  might  have  flown  through  the  kitchen  to- 
day and  she  wouldn't  have  seenJtlJiois^should   she 

V  Of    THE  r 

UNIVERSITY 


140  Pierrette. 

see  the  dust  flying !  and  then  it  was  my  coffee,  ha ! 
that  did  n't  signify  !  " 

As  she  spoke  she  was  laying  on  the  side  of  her  plate 
the  coffee-grounds  that  had  run  through  the  filter. 

"But,  cousin,  that  is  coffee,"  said  Pierrette. 

"  Oh !  then  it  is  I  who  tell  lies,  is  it?  "  cried  Sylvie, 
looking  at  Pierrette  and  blasting  her  with  a  fearful 
flash  of  anger  from  her  eyes. 

Organizations  which  have  not  been  exhausted  by 
powerful  emotions  often  have  a  vast  amount  of  the 
vital  fluid  at  their  service.  This  phenomenon  of  the 
extreme  clearness  of  the  eye  in  moments  of  anger  was 
the  more  marked  in  Mademoiselle  Rogron  because  she 
had  often  exercised  the  power  of  her  eyes  in  her  shop 
by  opening  them  to  their  full  extent  for  the  purpose  of 
inspiring  her  dependents  with  salutary  fear. 

4 'You  had  better  dare  to  give  me  the  lie!"  con- 
tinued Sylvie  ;  M  you  deserve  to  be  sent  from  the  table 
to  go  and  eat  by  yourself  in  the  kitchen." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  two?"  cried  Rogron, 
"  you  are  as  cross  as  bears  this  morning." 

"  Mademoiselle  knows  what  I  have  against  her," 
said  Sylvie.  "  I  leave  her  to  make  up  her  mind  before 
speaking  to  you  ;  for  I  mean  to  show  her  more  kindness 
than  she  deserves." 

Pierrette  was  looking  out  of  the  window  to  avoid  her 
cousin's  eyes,  which  frightened  her. 


"Look  at 


Pierrette.  141 


Look  at  her !  she  pays  no  more  attention  to  what  I 
am  saying  than  if  I  were  that  sugar-basin !  And  yet 
mademoiselle  has  a  sharp  ear;  she  can  hear  and  an- 
swer from  the  top  of  the  house  when  some  one  talks 
to  her  from  below.  She  is  perversity  itself,  —  perver- 
sity, I  say ;  and  you  need  n't  expect  any  good  of  her ; 
do  you  hear  me,  Jerome  ?  " 

"  What  has  she  done  wrong?  "  asked  Rogron. 

"At  her  age,  too!  to  begin  so  young!"  screamed 
the  angry  old  maid. 

Pierrette  rose  to  clear  the  table  and  give  herself 
something  to  do,  for  she  could  hardly  bear  the  scene 
any  longer.  Though  such  language  was  not  new  to 
her,  she  had  never  been  able  to  get  used  to  it.  Her 
cousin's  rage  seemed  to  accuse  her  of  some  crime.  She 
imagined  what  her  fury  would  be  if  she  came  to  know 
about  Brigaut.  Perhaps  her  cousins  would  have  him 
sent  away,  and  she  should  lose  him !  All  the  many 
thoughts,  the  deep  and  rapid  thoughts  of  a  slave  came 
to  her,  and  she  resolved  to  keep  absolute  silence  about 
a  circumstance  in  which  her  conscience  told  her  there 
was  nothing  wrong.  But  the  cruel,  bitter  words  she  had 
been  made  to  hear  and  the  wounding  suspicion  so 
shocked  her  that  as  she  reached  the  kitchen  she  was 
taken  with  a  convulsion  of  the  stomach  and  turned 
deadl}7  sick.  She  dared  not  complain ;  she  was  not 
sure  that  any  one  would  help  her.     When  she  returned 


142  Pierrette* 

to  the  dining-room  she  was  white  as  a  sheet,  and, 
saying  she  was  not  well,  she  started  to  go  to  bed, 
dragging  herself  up  step  by  step  by  the  baluster  and 
thinking  that  she  was  going  to  die.  "  Poor  Brigaut !  " 
she  thought. 

u  The  girl  is  ill,"  said  Rogron. 

"  She  ill!  That 's  only  shamming"  replied  Sylvie, 
in  a  loud  voice  that  Pierrette  might  hear.  **  She  was 
well  enough  this  morning,  I  can  tell  you/' 

This  last  blow  struck  Pierrette  to  the  earth;  she 
went  to  bed  weeping  and  praying  to  God  to  take  her 
out  of  this  world. 


Pierrette.  143 


VII. 


DOMESTIC   TYRANNY. 

For  a  month  past  Rogron  had  ceased  to  carry  the 
"  Constitutionnel"  to  Gouraud ;  the  colonel  came  ob- 
sequiously to  fetch  his  paper,  gossip  a  little,  and  take 
Rogron  off  to  walk  if  the  weather  was  fine.  Sure  of 
seeing  the  colonel  and  being  able  to  question  him,  Syl- 
vie  dressed  herself  as  coquettishly  as  she  knew  how. 
The  old  maid  thought  she  was  attractive  in  a  green 
gown,  a  yellow  shawl  with  a  red  border,  and  a  white 
bonnet  with  straggling  gray  feathers.  About  the  hour 
when  the  colonel  usually  came  S}ivie  stationed  herself 
in  the  salon  with  her  brother,  whom  she  had  com- 
pelled to  stay  in  the  house  in  his  dressing-gown  and 
slippers. 

"It  is  a  fine  day,  colonel,"  said  Rogron,  when 
Gouraud  with  his  heavy  step  entered  the  room.  "  But 
I  'm  not  dressed  ;  my  sister  wanted  to  go  out,  and  I  was 
going  to  keep  the  house.  Wait  for  me  ;  I  '11  be  ready 
soon." 

So  saying,  Rogron  left  Sylvie  alone  with  the  colonel. 

"Where  were  you  going?  you  are  dressed  divinely," 


144  Pierrette. 

said  Gouraud,  who  noticed  a  certain  solemnity  on  the 
pock-marked  face  of  the  old  maid. 

11 1  wanted  very  much  to  go  out,  but  my  little  cousin 
is  ill,  and  I  cannot  leave  her." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  she  had  to  go  to  bed." 

Gouraud's  caution,  not  to  sa}'  his  distrust,  was  con- 
stant^' excited  by  the  results  of  his  alliance  with  Vinet. 
It  certainly  appeared  that  the  lawyer  had  got  the  lion's* 
share  in  their  enterprise.  Vinet  controlled  the  paper, 
he  reigned  as  sole  master  over  it,  he  took  the  revenues ; 
whereas  the  colonel,  the  responsible  editor,  earned 
little.  Vinet  and  Cournant  had  done  the  Rogrons 
great  services ;  whereas  Gouraud,  a  colonel  on  half- 
pay,  could  do  nothing.  Who  was  to  be  deputy  ?  Vinet. 
Who  was  the  chief  authority  in  the  party?  Vinet. 
Whom  did  the  liberals  all  consult?  Vinet.  Moreover, 
the  colonel  knew  fully  as  well  as  Vinet  himself  the 
extent  and  depth  of  the  passion  suddenly  aroused  in 
Rogron  by  the  beautiful  Bathilde  de  Chargebceuf. 
This  passion  had  now  become  intense,  like  all  the  last 
passions  of  men.  Bathilde's  voice  made  him  tremble. 
Absorbed  in  his  desires  Rogron  hid  them ;  he  dared 
not  hope  for  such  a  marriage.  To  sound  him,  the 
colonel  mentioned  that  he  was  thinking  himself  of  ask- 
ing for  Bathilde's  hand.  Rogron  turned  pale  at  the 
thought  of  such  a  formidable  rival,  and  had  since  then 
shown  coldness  and  even  hatred  to  Gouraud. 


Pierrette.  145 


Thus  Vinet  reigned  supreme  in  the  Rogron  household 
while  he,  the  colonel,  had  no  hold  there  except  by  the 
extremely  hypothetical  tie  of  his  mendacious  affection 
for  Sylvie,  which  it  was  not  yet  clear  that  Sylvie  recip- 
rocated. When  the  lawyer  told  him  of  the  priest's 
manoeuvre,  and  advised  him  to  break  with  Sylvie  and 
marry  Pierrette,  he  certainly  flattered  Gouraud's  foible  ; 
but  after  analyzing  the  inner  purpose  of  that  advice  and 
examining  the  ground  all  about  him,  the  colonel  thought 
he  perceived  in  his  ally  the  intention  of  separating  him 
from  Sylvie,  and  profiting  by^  her  fears  to  throw  the 
whole  Rogron  property  into  the  hands  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Chargeboeuf. 

Therefore,  when  the  colonel  was  left  alone  with 
Sylvie  his  perspicacity  possessed  itself  immediately  of 
certain  signs  which  betrayed  her  uneasiness.  He  saw 
at  once  that  she  was  under  arms  and  had  made  this 
plan  for  seeing  him  alone.  As  he  already  suspected 
Vinet  of  playing  him  some  trick,  he 'attributed  the  con- 
ference to  the  instigation  of  the  lawyer,  and  was  in- 
stantly on  his  guard,  as  he  would  have  been  in  an 
enemy's  country,  —  with  an  eye  all  about  him,  an  ear  to 
the  faintest  sound,  his  mind  on  the  qui  vive,  and  his 
hand  on  a  weapon.  The  colonel  had  the  defect  of 
never  believing  a  single  word  said  to  him  by  a  woman  ; 
so  that  when  the  old  maid  brought  Pierrette  on  the 
scene,  and  told  him  she  had  gone  to  bed  before  midday, 
10 


146  Pierrette. 

he  concluded  that  Sylvie  had  locked  her  up  by  way  of 
punishment  and  out  of  jealousy. 

"  She  is  getting  to  be  quite  pretty,  that  little  thing," 
he  said  with  an  easy  air. 

"  She  will  be  pretty,"  replied  Mademoiselle  Rogron. 

"  You  ought  to  send  her  to  Paris  and  put  her  in  a 
shop,"  continued  the  colonel.  **  She  would  make  her 
fortune.    The  milliners  all  want  pretty  girls." 

"Is  that  really  your  advice?"  asked  Sylvie,  in  a 
troubled  voice. 

"  Good  !  "  thought  the  colonel,  "  I  was  right.  Vinet 
advised  me  to  marry  Pierrette  just  to  spoil  my  chance 
with  the  old  harridan.  But,"  he  said  aloud,  "  what 
else  can  }rou  do  with  her?  There  s  that  beautiful  girl 
Bathilde  de  Chargebceuf,  noble  and  well-connected, 
reduced  to  single-blessedness,  —  nobody  will  have  her. 
Pierrette  has  nothing,  and  she  '11  never  marry.  As  for 
beauty,  what  is  it?  To  me,  for  example,  youth  and 
beauty  are  nothing ;  for  have  n't  I  been  a  captain  of 
cavalr\T  in  the  imperial  guard,  and  carried  my  spurs  into 
all  the  capitals  of  Europe,  and  known  all  the  handsomest 
women  of  these  capitals  ?  Don't  talk  to  me ;  I  tell  30U 
youth  and  beaut}-  are  devilishly  common  and  silly. 
At  forty-eight,"  he  went  on,  adding  a  few  years  to  his 
age,  to  match  Sylvie's,  "  after  surviving  the  retreat 
from  Moscow  and  going  through  that  terrible  campaign 
of  France,  a  man  is  broken  down  ;  I  'm  nothing  but  an 


Pierrette.  147 


old  fellow  now.  A  woman  like  you  would  pet  me  and 
care  for  me,  and  her  money,  joined  to  my  poor  pension, 
would  give  me  ease  in  my  old  days  ;  of  course  I  should 
prefer  such  a  woman  to  a  little  minx  who  would  worry 
the  life  out  of  me,  and  be  thirty  years  old,  with  passions, 
when  I  should  be  sixty,  with  rheumatism.  At  my  age, 
a  man  considers  and  calculates.  To  tell  }Tou  the  truth 
between  ourselves,  I  should  not  wish  to  have  children." 

Sylvie's  face  was  an  open  book  to  the  colonel  during 
this  tirade,  and  her  next  question  proved  to  him  Vinet's 
perfidy. 

"  Then  you  don't  love  Pierrette?  "  she  said. 

"  Heavens !  are  jtou  out  of  your  mind,  my  dear 
Sylvie?"  he  cried.  "Can  those  who  have  no  teeth 
crack  nuts?  Thank  God  I  've  got  some  common- 
sense  and  know  what  I  'm  about." 

Sylvie  thus  reassured  resolved  not  to  show  her  own 
hand,  and  thought  herself  very  shrewd  in  putting  her 
own  ideas  into  her  brother's  mouth. 

"  Jer6me,"  she  said,  "  thought  of  the  match." 

"  How  could  j'our  brother  take  up  such  an  incongru- 
ous idea  ?  Why,  it  is  only  a  few  days  ago  that,  in  order 
to  find  out  his  secrets,  I  told  him  I  loved  Bathilde. 
He  turned  as  white  as  your  collar." 

"My  brother!  does  he  love  Bathilde?"  asked 
Sylvie. 

"  Madly,  —  and  yet  Bathilde  is  only  after  his  money." 


148  Pierrette. 

("  One  for  you,  Vinet !  "  thought  the  colonel.)  "  I  can't 
understand  wiry  he  should  have  told  you  that  about 
Pierrette.  No,  Sylvie,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand 
and  pressing  it  in  a  certain  way,  "  since  you  have 
opened  this  matter"  (he  drew  nearer  to  her),  "well" 
(he  kissed  her  hand ;  as  a  cavalr}'  captain  he  had 
already  proved  his  courage),  "let  me  tell  you  that  I 
desire  no  wife  but  3Ton.  Though  such  a  marriage  may 
look  like  one  of  convenience,  I  feel,  on  nry  side,  a  sin- 
cere affection  for  you." 

"  But  if  I  wish  you  to  marry  Pierrette?  if  I  leave 
her  my  fortune  —  eh,  colonel?" 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  miserable  in  my  home,  and 
in  less  than  ten  years  see  a  popinja}'  like  Julliard 
hovering  round  my  wife  and  addressing  verses  to  her 
in  the  newspapers.  I  'm  too  much  of  a  man  to  stand 
that.  No,  I  will  never  make  a  marriage  that  is  dispro- 
portionate in  age." 

11  Well,  colonel,  we  will  talk  seriously  of  this  another 
time,"  said  Sylvie,  casting  a  glance  upon  him  which 
she  supposed  to  be  full  of  love,  though,  in  point  of  fact, 
it  was  a  good  deal  like  that  of  an  ogress.  Her  cold, 
blue  lips  of  a  violet  tinge  drew  back  from  the  yellow 
teeth,  and  she  thought  she  smiled. 

"I'm  ready,"  said  Rogron,  coming  in  and  carrying 
off  the  colonel,  who  bowed  in  a  lover-like  way  to  the 
old  maid. 


Pierrette.  149 

Gouraud  determined  to  press  on  his  marriage  with 
Sylvie,  and  make  himself  master  of  the  house  ;  resolving 
to  rid  himself,  through  his  influence  over  Sylvie  during 
the  honeymoon,  of  Bathilde  and  Celeste  Habert.  So, 
during  their  walk,  he  told  Rogron  he  had  been  joking 
the  other  day  ;  that  he  had  no  real  intention  of  aspiring 
to  Bathilde ;  that  he  was  not  rich  enough  to  marry  a 
woman  without  a  fortune ;  and  then  he  confided  to  him 
his  real  wishes,  declaring  that  he  had  long  chosen 
Sylvie  for  her  good  qualities,  —  in  short,  he  aspired  to 
the  honor  of  being  Rogron's  brother-in-law. 

14  Ah,  colonel,  my  dear  baron  !  if  nothing  is  wanting 
but  my  eonsent  you  have  it  with  no  further  delay  than 
the  law  requires,"  cried  Rogron,  delighted  to  be  rid  of 
his  formidable  rival. 

Sylvie  spent  the  morning  in  her  own  room  consider- 
ing how  the  new  household  could  be  arranged.  She 
determined  to  build  a  second  storey  for  her  brother  and 
to  furnish  the  first  for  herself  and  her  husband  ;  but  she 
also  resolved,  in  the  true  old-maidish  spirit,  to  subject 
the  colonel  to  certain  proofs  by  which  to  judge  of  his 
heart  and  his  morals  before  she  finally  committed  her- 
self. She  was  still  suspicious,  and  wanted  to  make 
sure  that  Pierrette  had  no  private  intercourse  with  the 
colonel. 

Pierrette  came  down  before  the  dinner-hour  to  lay 
the  table.     Sylvie  had  been  forced  to  cook  the  dinner, 


150  Pierrette. 

and  had  sworn  at  that  "  cursed  Pierrette  "  for  a  spot 
she  had  made  on  her  gown,  —  wasn't  it  plain  that  if 
Pierrette  had  done  her  own  work  Sylvie  would  n't  have 
got  that  grease-spot  on  her  silk  dress  ? 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  peakling  !  You  are  like  the  dog 
of  the  marshal  who  woke  up  as  soon  as  the  saucepans 
rattled.  Ha!  you  want  us  to  think  you  are  ill,  you 
little  liar ! " 

That  idea:  "  You  did  not  tell  the  truth  about  what 
happened  in  the  square  this  morning,  therefore  you  lie 
in  everything,"  was  a  hammer  with  which  Sylvie  bat- 
tered the  head  and  also  the  heart  of  the  poor  girl 
incessantly. 

To  Pierrette's  great  astonishment  Sylvie  sent  her  to 
dress  in  her  best  clothes  after  dinner.  The  liveliest 
imagination  is  never  up  to  the  level  of  the  activity 
which  suspicion  excites  in  the  mind  of  an  old  maid. 
In  this  particular  case,  this  particular  old  maid  carried 
the  day  against  politicians,  lawyers,  notaries,  and  all 
other  self-interests.  Sylvie  determined  to  consult  Vinet, 
after  examining  herself  into  all  the  suspicious  circum- 
stances. She  kept  Pierrette  close  to  her,  so  as  to  find 
out  from  the  girl's  face  whether  the  colonel  had  told 
her  the  truth. 

On  this  particular  evening  the  Chargeboeuf  ladies 
were  the  first  to  arrive.  Bathilde,  by  Vinet's  advice, 
had   become   more   elaborate   in   her  dress.     She  now 


Pierrette.  151 


wore  a  charming  gown  of  blue  velveteen,  with  the 
same  transparent  fichu,  garnet  pendants  in  her  ears, 
her  hair  in  ringlets,  the  wily  jeannette  round  her  throat, 
black  satin  slippers,  gray  silk  stockings,  and  gants  de 
Sue~de ;  add  to  these  things  the  manners  of  a  queen 
and  the  coquetry  of  a  young  girl  determined  to  cap- 
ture Rogron.  Her  mother,  calm  and  dignified,  re- 
tained, as  did  her  daughter,  a  certain  aristocratic 
insolence,  with  which  the  two  women  hedged  themselves 
and  preserved  the  spirit  of  their  caste.  Bathilde  was  a 
woman  of  intelligence,  a  fact  which  Vinet  alone  had 
discovered  during  the  two  months'  stay  the  ladies  had 
made  at-  his  house.  When  he  had  fully  fathomed  the 
mind  of  the  girl,  wounded  and  disappointed  as  it  was 
by  the  fruitlessness  of  her  beauty  and  her  3-outh,  and 
enlightened  by  the  contempt  she  felt  for  the  men  of  a 
period  in  which  money  was  the  only  idol,  Vinet,  him- 
self surprised,  exclaimed,  — 

"  If  I  could  only  have  married  3-ou,  Bathilde,  I 
should  to-day  be  Keeper  of  the  Seals.  I  should  call 
myself  Vinet  de  Chargeboeuf,  and  take  my  seat  as 
deputy  of  the  Right." 

Bathilde  had  no  vulgar  idea  in  her  marriage  inten- 
tions. She  did  not  marry  to  be  a  mother,  nor  to  pos- 
sess a  husband ;  she  married  for  freedom,  to  gain  a 
responsible  position,  to  be  called  "  madame,"  and  to 
act  as  men  act.     Rogron  was  nothing  but  a  name  to 


152  Pierrette. 

her;  she  expected  to  make  something  of  the  fool,  —  a 
voting  deputy,  for  instance,  whose  instigator  she  would 
be ;  moreover  she  longed  to  avenge  herself  on  her 
family,  who  had  taken  no  notice  of  a  girl  without 
money.  Vinet  had  much  enlarged  and  strengthened 
her  ideas  by  admiring  and  approving  them. 

u  My  dear  Bathilde,"  he  said,  while  explaining  to 
her  the  influence  of  women,  and  showing  her  the  sphere 
of  action  in  which  she  ought  to  work,  "  do  you  sup- 
pose that  Tiphaine,  a  man  of  the  most  ordinary  ca- 
pacity, could  ever  get  to  be  a  judge  of  the  Royal  court 
in  Paris  by  himself  ?  No,  it  is  Madame  Tiphaine  who 
has  got  him  elected  deputy,  and  it  is  she  who  will  push 
him  when  they  get  to  Paris.  Her  mother,  Madame 
Roguin,  is  a  shrewd  woman,  who  does  what  she  likes 
with  the  famous  banker  du  Tillet,  a  crony  of  Nucin- 
gen,  and  both  of  them  allies  of  the  Kellers.  The 
administration  is  on  the  best  of  terms  with  those 
lynxes  of  the  bank.  There  is  no  reason  why  Tiphaine 
should  not  be  judge,  through  his  wife,  of  a  Royal 
court.  Marry  Rogron  ;  we  '11  have  him  elected  deputy 
from  Provins  as  soon  as  I  gain  another  precinct  in  the 
Seine-et-Marne.  You  can  then  get  him  a  place  as 
receiver-general,  where  he'll  have  nothing  to  do  but 
sign  his  name.  We  shall  belong  to  the  opposition  if 
the  Liberals  triumph,  but  if  the  Bourbons  remain  — 
ah !    then   we   shall  lean   gently,   gently  towards  the 


Pierrette.  153 

sntre.  Besides,  you  must  remember  Rogron  can't 
live  forever,  and  then  you  can  marry  a  titled  man. 
In  short,  put  yourself  in  a  good  position,  and  the 
Chargeboeufs  will  be  ready  enough  to  serve  us.  Your 
poverty  has  no  doubt  taught  you,  as  mine  did  me,  to 
know  what  men  are  worth.  We  must  make  use  of 
them  as  we  do  of  post-horses.  A  man,  or  a  woman, 
will  take  us  along  to  such  or  such  a  distance." 

Vinet  ended  by  making  Bathilde  a  small  edition  of 
Catherine  de  Medicis.  He  left  his  wife  at  home,  re- 
joiced to  be  alone  with  her  two  children,  while  he 
went  every  night  to  the  Rogrons'  with  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf.  He  arrived  there  in  all 
the  glory  of  better  circumstances.  His  spectacles  were 
of  gold,  his  waistcoat  silk ;  a  white  cravat,  black 
trousers,  thin  boots,  a  black  coat  made  in  Paris,  and 
a  gold  watch  and  chain,  made  up  his  apparel.  In 
place  of  the  former  Vinet,  pale  and  thin,  snarling  and 
gloomy,  the  present  Vinet  bore  himself  with  the  air 
and  manner  of  a  man  of  importance ;  he  marched 
boldly  forward,  certain  of  success,  with  that  peculiar 
show  of  security  which  belongs  to  lawyers  who  know 
the  hidden  places  of  the  law.  His  sly  little  head  was 
well-brushed,  his  chin  well  shaved,  which  gave  him  a 
mincing  though  frigid  look,  that  made  him  seem  agree- 
able in  the  style  of  Robespierre.  Certainly  he  would 
make    a  fine  attorney-general,    endowed   with   elastic, 


154  Pierrette. 

mischievous,  and  even  murderous  eloquence,  or  an  orator 
of  the  shrewd  type  of  Benjamin  Constant.  The  bitter- 
ness and  the  hatred  which  formerly  actuated  him  had 
now  turned  into  soft-spoken  perfidy;  the  poison  was 
transformed  into  anodyne. 

4 'Good-evening,  my  dear;  how  are  you?"  said  Ma- 
dame de  Chargeboeuf,  greeting  Sylvie. 

Bathilde  went  straight  to  the  fireplace,  took  off  her 
bonnet,  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  placed  her 
pretty  foot  on  the  fender  that  Rogron  might  admire  it. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  3rou?"  she  said  to  him, 
looking  directly  in  his  face.  "You  have  not  bowed 
to  me.  Pray  why  should  we  put  on  our  best  velvet 
gowns  to  please  30U?" 

She  pushed  past  Pierrette  to  lay  down  her  hat, 
which  the  latter  took  from  her  hand,  and  which  she  let 
her  take  exactly  as  though  she  were  a  servant.  Men 
are  supposed  to  be  ferocious,  and  tigers  too ;  but 
neither  tigers,  vipers,  diplomatists,  lawyers,  execu- 
tioners or  kings  ever  approach,  in  their  greatest  atroci- 
ties, the  gentle  cruelty,  the  poisoned  sweetness,  the 
savage  disdain  of  one  young  woman  for  another,  when 
she  thinks  herself  superior  in  birth,  or  fortune,  or 
grace,  and  some  question  of  marriage,  or  precedence, 
or  any  of  the  feminine  rivalries,  is  raised.  The  "  Thank 
you,  mademoiselle,"  which  Bathilde  said  to  Pierrette 
was  a  poem  in  many  strophes.     She  was  named  Ba- 


Pierrette.  155 

thilde,  and  the  other  Pierrette.  She  was  a  Chargeboeuf, 
the  other  a  Lorrain.  Pierrette  was  small  and  weak, 
Bathilde  was  tall  and  full  of  life.  Pierrette  was  living 
on  charity,  Bathilde  and  her  mother  lived  on  their 
means.  Pierrette  wore  a  stuff  gown  with  a  chemisette, 
Bathilde  made  the  velvet  of  hers  undulate.  Bathilde 
had  the  finest  shoulders  in  the  department,  and  the 
arm  of  a  queen;  Pierrette's  shoulder-blades  were  skin 
and  bone.  Pierrette  was  Cinderella,  Bathilde  was  the 
fairy.  Bathilde  was  about  to  marry,  Pierrette  was  to 
die  a  maid.  Bathilde  was  adored,  Pierrette  was  loved 
by  none.  Bathilde's  hair  was  ravishingly  dressed,  she 
had  so  much  taste ;  Pierrette's  was  hidden  beneath  her 
Breton  cap,  and  she  knew  nothing  of  the  fashions. 
Moral,  Bathilde  was  everything,  Pierrette  nothing. 
The  proud  little  Breton  girl  understood  this  tragic 
poem. 

"  Good-evening,  little  girl,"  said  Madame  de  Charge- 
boeuf, from  the  height  of  her  condescending  grandeur, 
and  in  the  tone  of  voice  which  her  pinched  nose  gave 
her. 

Vinet  put  the  last  touch  to  this  sort  of  insult  by  look- 
ing fixedly  at  Pierrette  and  saying,  in  three  keys, 
"Oh!  oh!  oh!  how  fine  we  are  to-night,  Pierrette!" 

"  Fine  !  "  said  the  poor  child  ;  "  3-011  should  say  that 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf,  not  to  me." 

"  Oh  !  she  is  always  beautifully  dressed,"  replied  the 


156  Pierrette. 

lawyer.  "Isn't  she,  Rogron?"  he  added,  turning  to 
the  master  of  the  house,  and  grasping  his  hand. 

41  Yes,"  said  Rogron. 

44  Why  do  you  force  him  to  say  what  he  does  not 
think?"  said  Bathilde ;  4' nothing  about  me  pleases 
him.  Is  n't  that  true  ? "  she  added,  going  up  to  Ro- 
gron and  standing  before  him.  "  Look  at  me,  and  say 
if  it  is  n't  true. " 

Rogron  looked  at  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  gently 
closed  his  eyes  like  a  cat  whose  head  is  being  scratched. 

44  You  are  too  beautiful,"  he  said;  44  too  dangerous." 

44  Why?" 

Rogron  looked  at  the  fire  and  was  silent.  Just  then 
Mademoiselle  Habert  entered  the  room,  followed  by 
the  colonel. 

Celeste  Habert,  who  had  now  become  the  common 
enemy,  could  only  reckon  Sylvie  on  her  side ;  never- 
theless, ever3Tbod}r  present  showed  her  the  more  civile 
and  amiable  attention  because  each  was  undermining 
her.  Her  brother,  though  no  longer  able  to  be  on  the 
scene  of  action,  was  well  aware  of  what  was  going  on, 
and  as  soon  as  he  perceived  that  his  sister's  hopes  were 
killed  he  became  an  implacable  and  terrible  antagonist 
to  the  Rogrons. 

Every  one  will  immediately  picture  to  themselves 
Mademoiselle  Habert  when  they  know  that  if  she  had 
not  kept  an   institution   for  young  ladies  she  would 


Pierrette.  157 

still  have  had  the  air  of  a  school-mistress.  School- 
mistresses have  a  way  of  their  own  in  putting  on  their 
caps.  Just  as  old  Englishwomen  have  acquired  a 
monopoly  in  turbans,  schoolmistresses  have  a  monopoly 
of  these  caps.  Flowers  nod  above  the  frame-work, 
flowers  that  are  more  than  artificial;  lying  by  in 
closets  for  years  the  cap  is  both  new  and  old,  even 
on  the  day  it  is  first  worn.  These  spinsters  make  it  a 
point  of  honor  to  resemble  the  lay  figures  of  a  painter ; 
they  sit  on  their  hips,  never  on  their  chairs.  When 
any  one  speaks  to  them  they  turn  their  whole  busts 
instead  of  simply  turning  their  heads ;  and  when  their 
gowns  creak  one  is  tempted  to  believe  that  the  mech- 
anism of  these  beings  is  out  of  order.  Mademoiselle 
Habert,  an  ideal  of  her  species,  had  a  stern  eye,  a 
grim  mouth,  and  beneath  her  wrinkled  chin  the  strings 
of  her  cap,  always  limp  and  faded,  floated  as  she  moved. 
Two  moles,  rather  large  and  brown,  adorned  that  chin, 
and  from  them  sprouted  hairs  which  she  allowed  to 
grow  rampant  like  clematis.  And  finally,  to  complete 
her  portrait,  she  took  snuff,  and  took  it  ungracefully. 

The  company  went  to  work  at  their  boston.  Made- 
moiselle Habert  sat  opposite  to  Sylvie,  with  the  colonel 
at  her  side  opposite  to  Madame  de  Chargebceuf. 
Bathilde  was  near  her  mother  and  Rogron.  Sylvie 
placed  Pierrette  between  herself  and  the  colonel ; 
Rogron  had  set  out  a  second  card- table,  in  case  other 


158  Pierrette. 

company  arrived.  Two  lamps  were  on  the  chimne}-- 
piece  between  the  candelabra  and  the  clock,  and  the 
tables  were  lighted  by  candles  at  fort}-  sous  a  pound, 
paid  for  by  the  price  of  the  cards. 

"  Come,  Pierrette,  take  your  work,  my  dear,"  said 
Sylvie,  with  treacherous  softness,  noticing  that  the  girl 
was  watching  the  colonel's  game. 

She  usually  affected  to  treat  Pierrette  well  before 
compan}^.  This  deception  irritated  the  honest  Bre- 
ton girl,  and  made  her  despise  her  cousin.  She 
took  her  embroider}",  but  as  she  drew  her  stitches  she 
still  watched  Gouraud's  play.  Gouraud  behaved  as 
if  he  did  not  know  the  girl  was  near  him.  Sylvie 
noticed  this  apparent  indifference  and  thought  it  ex- 
tremely suspicious.  Presently  she  undertook  a  grande 
misere  in  hearts,  the  pool  being  full  of  counters, 
besides  containing  twentj-seven  sous.  The  rest  of  the 
company  had  now  arrived  ;  among  them  the  deputy- 
judge  Desfondrilles,  who  for  the  last  two  months  had 
abandoned  the  Tiphaine  part}'  and  connected  himself 
more  or  less  with  the  Vinets.  He  was  standing  before 
the  chimne}r-piece,  with  his  back  to  the  fire  and  the 
tails  of  his  coat  over  his  arms,  looking  round  the  fine 
salon  of  which  Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf  was  the 
shining  ornament;  for  it  really  seemed  as  if  all  the 
reds  of  its  decoration  had  been  made  express^  to 
enhance  her  style  of  beauty.    Silence  reigned  ;  Pierrette 


Pierrette.  159 


was  watching  the  game,  Sylvie's  attention  was  dis- 
tracted from  her  by  the  interest  of  the  grande  misere. 

"Play  that,"  said  Pierrette  to  the  colonel,  pointing 
to  a  heart  in  his  hand. 

The  colonel  began  a  sequence  in  hearts ;  the  hearts 
all  lay  between  himself  and  Sylvie ;  the  colonel  won 
her  ace,  though  it  was  protected  by  five  small  hearts. 

"  That 's  not  fair !  "  she  cried.  "  Pierrette  saw  my 
hand,  and  the  colonel  took  her  advice." 

"But,  mademoiselle,"  said  Celeste,  "it  was  the 
colonel's  game  to  play  hearts  after  you  began  them." 

The  scene  made  Monsieur  Desfondrilles  smile ;  his 
was  a  keen  mind,  which  found  much  amusement  in 
watching  the  play  of  all  the  self-interests  in  Provins. 

"Yes,  it  was  certainly  the  colonel's  game,"  said 
Cournant  the  notary,  not  knowing  what  the  question 
was. 

Sylvie  threw  a  look  at  Mademoiselle  Habert,  —  one 
of  those  glances  that  pass  from  old  maid  to  old  maid, 
feline  and  cruel. 

"Pierrette,  you  did  see  my  hand,"  said  Sylvie  fixing 
her  eyes  on  the  girl. 

"  No,  cousin." 

"  I  was  looking  at  3Tou  all,"  said  the  deputy -judge, 
"  and  I  can  swear  that  Pierrette  saw  no  one's  hand  but 
the  colonel's." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Gouraud,  alarmed,  "  little  girls  know 
how  to  slide  their  eyes  into  everything." 


160  Pierrette. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Sj'lvie. 

"Yes,"  continued  Gouraud.  "  I  dare  say  she 
looked  into  your  hand  to  play  jtou  a  trick.  Did  n't 
you,  little  one?" 

"  No,"  said  the  truthful  Breton,  "  I  would  n't  do 
such  a  thing;  if  I  had,  it  would  have  been  in  my 
cousin's  interests." 

"You  know  you  are  a  story-teller  and  a  little  fool," 
cried  Sylvie.  "  After  what  happened  this  morning  do 
you  suppose  I  can  believe  a  word  you  say  ?  You  are 
a—" 

Pierrette  did  not  wait  for  Sj'lvie  to  finish  her  sen- 
tence ;  foreseeing  a  torrent  of  insults,  she  rushed  away 
without  a  light  and  ran  to  her  room.  Sylvie  turned 
white  with  anger  and  muttered  between  her  teeth, 
"  She  shall  pay  for  this  !  " 

"Shall  you  pay  for  the  misere?"  said  Madame  de 
Chargebceuf. 

As  she  spoke  Pierrette  struck  her  he'ad  against  the 
door  of  the  passage  which  some  one  had  left  open. 

"  Good  !  I  'm  glad  of  it,"  cried  Sylvie,  as  they  heard 
the  blow. 

"  She  must  be  hurt,"  said  Desfondrilles. 

"  She  deserves  it,"  replied  Sylvie. 

"It  was  a  bad  blow,"  said  Mademoiselle  Habert. 

Sylvie  thought  she  might  escape  paying  her  misere  if 
she  went  to  see  after  Pierrette  ;  but  Madame  de  Charge- 
bceuf stopped  her. 


Pierrette.  161 

"  Pay  us  first,"  she  said,  laughing ;  "  you  will  forget 
it  when  you  come  back." 

The' remark,  based  on  the  old  maid's  trickery  and 
her  bad  faith  in  paying  her  debts  at  cards  was  approved 
by  the  others.  Sylvie  sat  down  and  thought  no  more 
of  Pierrette,  —  an  indifference  which  surprised  no  one. 
When  the  game  was  over,  about  half  past  nine  o'clock, 
she  flung  herself  into  an  easy  chair  at  the  corner  of  the 
fireplace  and  did  not  even  rise  as  her  guests  departed. 
The  colonel  was  torturing  her ;  she  did  not  know  what 
to  think  of  him. 

"  Men  are  so  false  !  "  she  cried,  as  she  went  to  bed. 

Pierrette  had  given  herself  a  frightful  blow  on  the 
head,  just  above  the  ear,  at  the  spot  where  young  girls 
part  their  hair  when  they  put  their  "front  hair"  in 
curlpapers.     The  next  day  there  was  a  large  swelling. 

"  God  has  punished  you,"  said  Sylvie  at  the  break- 
fast table.  "  You  disobeyed  me  ;  you  treated  me  with 
disrespect  in  leaving  the  room  before  I  had  finished  my 
sentence  ;  you  "got  what  you  deserved." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Rogron,  "  she  ought  to  put  on 
a  compress  of  salt  and  water." 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing  at  all,  cousin/'  said  Pierrette. 

The  poor  child  had  reached  a  point  when  even  such 
a  remark  seemed  to  her  a  proof  of  kindness. 
11 


162  Pierrette. 


VIII. 

THE   LOVES   OF   JACQUES    AND   PIERRETTE. 

The  week  ended  as  it  had  begun,  in  continual  tor- 
ture. Sylvie  grew  ingenious,  and  found  refinements  of 
tyranny  with  almost  savage  cruelty ;  the  red  Indians 
might  have  taken  a  lesson  from  her.  Pierrette  dared 
not  complain  of  her  vague  sufferings,  nor  of  the  actual 
pains  she  now  felt  in  her  head.  The  origin  of  her 
cousin's  present  anger  was  the  non-revelation  of  Bri- 
gaut's  arrival.  With  Breton  obstinacy  Pierrette  was  de- 
termined to  keep  silence,  —  a  resolution  that  is  perfectly 
explicable.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  her  thoughts  turned 
to  Brigaut,  fearing  some  danger  for  him  if  he  were  dis- 
covered, yet  instinctive^  longing  to  have  him  near  her, 
and  happy  in  knowing  he  was  in  Provins.  What  joy 
to  have  seen  him !  That  single  glimpse  was  like  the 
look  an  exile  casts  upon  his  country,  or  the  martyr  lifts 
to  heaven,  where  his  eyes,  gifted  with  second-sight, 
can  enter  while  flames  consume  his  bod}'. 

Pierrette's  glance  had  been  so  thoroughly  understood 
by  the  major's  son  that,  as  he  planed  his  planks  or 
opened  his  compass  or  took  his  measures  or  joined  his 


Pierrette.  163 

wood,  he  was  working  his  brains  to  find  out  some  way 
of  communicating  with  her.  He  ended  by  choosing  the 
simplest  of  all  schemes.  At  a  certain  hour  of  the 
night  Pierrette  must  lower  a  letter  by  a  string  from  her 
window.  In  the  midst  of  the  girl's  own  sufferings,  she 
too  was  sustained  by  the  hope  of  being  able  to  commu- 
nicate with  Brigaut.  The  same  desire  was  in  both 
hearts  ;  parted,  they  understood  each  other !  At  every 
shock  to  her  heart,  every  throb  of  pain  in  her  head, 
Pierrette  said  to  herself,  "Brigaut  is  here!"  and  that 
thought  enabled  her  to  live  without  complaint. 

One  morning  in  the  market,  Brigaut,  lying  in  wait, 
was  able  to  get  near  her.  Though  he  saw  her  tremble 
and  turn  pale,  like  an  autumn  leaf  about  to  flutter 
down,  he  did  not  lose  his  head,  but  quietly  bought 
fruit  of  the  market-woman  with  whom  Sylvie  was  bar- 
gaining. He  found  his  chance  of  slipping  a  note  to 
Pierrette,  all  the  while  joking  the  woman  with  the 
ease  of  a  man  accustomed  to  such  manoeuvres  ;  so  cool 
was  he  in  action,  though  the  blood  hummed  in  his 
ears  and  rushed  boiling  through  his  veins  and  arteries. 
He  had  the  firmness  of  a  galley-slave  without,  and 
the  shrinkings  of  innocence  within  him,  —  like  certain 
mothers  in  their  moments  of  mortal  trial,  when  held 
between  two  dangers,  two  catastrophes. 

Pierrette's  inward  commotion  was  like  Brigaut's.  She 
slipped  the  note  into  the  pocket  of  her  apron.     The 


164  Pierrette. 

hectic  spots  upon  er  cheekbones  turned  to  a  cheny- 
scarlet.  These  two  children  went  through,  all  unknown 
to  themselves,  many  more  emotions  than  go  to  the 
make-up  of  a  dozen  ordinary  loves.  This  moment  in 
the  market-place  left  in  their  souls  a  well-spring  of 
passionate  feeling.  Sylvie,  who  did  not  recognize  the 
Breton  accent,  took  no  notice  of  Brigaut,  and  Pierrette 
went  home  safely  with  her  treasure. 

The  letters  of  these  two  poor  children  were  fated  to 
serve  as  documents  in  a  terrible  judicial  inquiry; 
otherwise,  without  the  fatal  circumstances  that  occa- 
sioned that  inquiry,  they  would  never  have  been  heard 
of.  Here  is  the  one  which  Pierrette  read  that  night  in 
her  chamber :  — 

My  dear  Pierrette,  —  At  midnight,  when  every- 
body is  asleep  but  me,  who  am  watching  you,  I  will 
come  every  night  under  your  window.  Let  down  a 
string  long  enough  to  reach  me ;  it  will  not  make  any 
noise ;  you  must  fasten  to  the  end  of  it  whatever  you 
write  to  me.  I  will  tie  my  letter  in  the  same  way.  I 
hear  they  have  taught  you  to  read  and  write,  —  those 
wicked  relations  who  were  to  do  you  good,  and  have 
done  }rou  so  much  harm.  You,  Pierrette,  the  daughter 
of  a  colonel  who  died  for  France,  reduced  by  those 
monsters  to  be  their  servant!  That  is  where  all 
your  pretty   color  and  your  health  have  gone.    My 


Pierrette.  165 

Pierrette,  what  has  become  of  her?  what  have  they 
done  with  her.  I  see  plainly  you  are  not  the  same, 
not  happy.  Oh  !  Pierrette,  let  us  go  back  to  Brittany. 
I  can  earn  enough  now  to  give  you  what  you  need  ;  for 
you  yourself  can  earn  three  francs  a  day  and  I  can 
earn  four  or  five ;  and  thirty  sous  is  all  I  want  to  live 
on.  Ah !  Pierrette,  how  I  have  prayed  the  good  God 
for  yoxx  ever  since  I  came  here  !  I  have  asked  him  to 
give  me  all  your  sufferings,  and  you  all  pleasures. 
Why  do  you  stay  with  them  ?  why  do  they  keep  you  ? 
Your  grandmother  is  more  to  you  than  they.  They  are 
vipers ;  they  have  taken  your  gayety  away  from  you. 
You  do  not  even  walk  as  you  once  did  in  Brittanj'. 
Let  us  go  back.  I  am  here  to  serve  you,  to  do  your 
will ;  tell  me  what  you  wish.  If  you  need  money  I 
have  a  hundred  and  fifty  francs ;  I  can  send  them  up 
by  the  string,  though  I  would  like  to  kiss  your  dear 
hands  and  lay  the  money  in  them.  Ah,  dear  Pierrette, 
it  is  a  long  time  now  that  the  blue  sky  has  been  over- 
cast for  me.  I  have  not  had  two  hours'  happiness  since 
I  put  you  into  that  diligence  of  evil.  And  when  I  saw 
you  the  other  morning,  looking  like  a  shadow,  I  could 
not  reach  you  ;  that  hag  of  a  cousin  came  between  us. 
But  at  least  we  can  have  the  consolation  of  praying  to 
God  together  every  Sunday  in  church ;  perhaps  he  will 
hear  us  all  the  more  when  we  pray  together. 
Not  good-by,  my  dear,  Pierrette,  but  to-night" 


166  Pierrette. 

This  letter  so  affected  Pierrette  that  she  sat  for  more 
than  an  hour  reading  and  re-reading  and  gazing  at  it. 
Then  she  remembered  with  anguish  that  she  had  noth- 
ing to  write  with.  She  summoned  courage  to  make 
the  difficult  journey  from  her  garret  to  the  dining-room, 
where  she  obtained  pen,  paper,  and  ink,  and  returned 
safety  without  waking  her  terrible  cousin.  A  few 
minutes  before  midnight  she  had  finished  the  following 
letter :  — 

Mr  Friend, — Oh!  yes,  my  friend;  for  there  is  no 
one  but  you,  Jacques,  and  my  grandmother  to  love 
me.  God  forgive  me,  but  you  are  the  only  two  persons 
whom  I  love,  both  alike,  neither  more  nor  less.  I  was 
too  little  to  know  my  dear  mamma ;  but  30U,  Jacques, 
and  my  grandmother,  and  my  grandfather,  —  God  grant 
him  heaven,  for  he  suffered  much  from  his  ruin,  which 
was  mine, — but  you  two  who  are  left,  I  love  you  both, 
unhappy  as  I  am.  Indeed,  to  know  how  much  I  love 
you,  30U  will  have  to  know  how  much  I  suffer ;  but 
I  don't  wish  that,  it  would  grieve  3Tou  too  much.  They 
speak  to  me  as  we  would  not  speak  to  a  dog;  they 
treat  me  like  the  worst  of  girls  ;  and  yet  I  do  examine 
myself  before  God,  and  I  cannot  find  that  I  do  wrong 
by  them.  Before  you  sang  to  me  the  marriage  song  I 
saw  the  mercy  of  God  in  my  sufferings ;  for  I  had 
prayed  to  him  to  take  me  from  the  world,  and  I  felt  so 


Pierrette.  167 

ill  I  said  to  myself,  "  God  hears  me  !  "  But,  Jacques, 
now  you  are  here,  I  want  to  live  and  go  back  to  Brit- 
tany, to  my  grandmamma  who  loves  me,  though  they 
say  she  stole  eight  thousand  francs  of  mine.  Jacques, 
is  that  so  ?  If  they  are  mine  could  you  get  them  !  But 
it  is  not  true,  for  if  my  grandmother  had  eight  thou- 
sand francs  she  would  not  live  at  Saint-Jacques. 

I  don't  want  to  trouble  her  last  da}"s,  my  kind,  good 
grandmamma,  with  the  knowledge  of  my  troubles  ;  she 
might  die  of  it.  Ah !  if  she  knew  they  made  her 
grandchild  scrub  the  pots  and  pans,  —  she  who  used  to 
say  to  me,  when  I  wanted  to  help  her  after  her  troubles, 
"Don't  touch  that,  my  darling;  leave  it  —  leave  it  — 
you  will  spoil  your  pretty  fingers."  Ah !  my  hands 
are  never  clean  now.  Sometimes  I  can  hardty  carry 
the  basket  home  from  market,  it  cuts  my  arm.  Still  I 
don't  think  my  cousins  mean  to  be  cruel ;  but  it  is  their 
way  always  to  scold,  and  it  seems  that  I  have  no  right 
to  leave  them.  My  cousin  Rogron  is  my  guardian. 
One  day  when  I  wanted  to  run  away  because  I  could 
not  bear  it,  and  told  them  so,  my  cousin  Sylvie  said  the 
gendarmes  would  go  after  me,  for  the  law  was  my  mas- 
ter. Oh!  I  know  now  that  cousins  cannot  take  the 
place  of  father  or  mother,  any  more  than  the  saints  can 
take  the  place  of  God. 

My  poor  Jacques,  what  do  you  suppose  I  could  do 
with  your  money?    Keep  it  for  our  journey.     Oh  J 


168  Pierrette. 

how  I  think  of  }tou  and  Pen-Hoel,  and  the  big  pond,  — 
that's  where  we  had  our  only  happy  days.  I  shall 
have  no  more,  for  I  feel  I  am  going  from  bad  to  worse. 
I  am  veiy  ill,  Jacques.  I  have  dreadful  pains  in  my 
head,  and  in  my  bones,  and  back,  which  kill  me,  and 
I  have  no  appetite  except  for  horrid  things,  —  roots  and 
leaves  and  such  things.  Sometimes  I  cr}r,  when  I  am 
all  alone,  for  they  won't  let  me  do  anything  I  like  if 
they  know  it,  not  even  cry.  I  have  to  hide  to  offer  my 
tears  to  Him  to  whom  we  owe  the  mercies  which  we 
call  afflictions.  It  must  have  been  He  who  gave  you 
the  blessed  thought  to  come  and  sing  the  marriage  song 
beneath  my  window.  Ah !  Jacques,  m}7  cousin  heard 
you,  and  she  said  I  had  a  lover.  If  you  wish  to  be  my 
lover,  love  me  well.  I  promise  to  love  you  always, 
as  I  did  in  the  past,  and  to  be 

Your  faithful  servant, 

Pierrette  Lorrain. 
You  will  love  me  always,  won't  you? 

She  had  brought  a  crust  of  bread  from  the  kitchen,  in 
which  she  now  made  a  hole  for  the  letter,  and  fastened 
it  like  a  weight  to  her  string.  At  midnight,  having 
opened  her  window  with  extreme  caution,  she  lowered 
the  letter  with  the  crust,  which  made  no  noise  against 
either  the  wall  of  the  house  or  the  blinds.  Presently 
she  felt  the  string  pulled  by  Brigaut,  who  broke  it  and 


Pierrette.  169 


then  crept  softly  away.  When  he  reached  the  middle 
of  the  square  she  could  see  him  indistinct^  by  the 
starlight ;  but  he  saw  her  quite  clearly  in  the  zone  of 
light  thrown  by  the  candle.  The  two  children  stood 
thus  for  over  an  hour,  Pierrette  making  him  signs  to  go, 
he  starting,  she  remaining,  he  coming  back  to  his  post, 
and  Pierrette  again  signing  that  he  must  leave  her. 
This  was  repeated  till  the  child  closed  her  window, 
went  to  bed,  and  blew  out  the  candle.  Once  in  bed 
she  fell  asleep,  happy  in  heart  though  suffering  in 
body,  —  she  had  Brigaut's  letter  under  her  pillow. 
She  slept  as  the  persecuted  sleep,  —  a  slumber  bright 
with  angels  ;  that  slumber  full  of  heavenly  arabesques, 
in  atmospheres  of  gold  and  lapis-lazuli,  perceived  and 
given  to  us  by  Raffaelle. 

The  moral  nature  had  such  empire  over  that  frail 
physical  nature  that  on  the  morrow  Pierrette  rose  light 
and  jo3rous  as  a  lark,  as  radiant  and  as  gay.  Such  a 
change  could  not  escape  the  vigilant  eye  of  her  cousin 
Sylvie,  who,  this  time,  instead  of  scolding  her,  set 
about  watching  her  with  the  scrutiny  of  a  magpie. 
"  What  reason  is  there  for  such  happiness?"  was  a 
thought  of  jealousy,  not  of  tyranny.  If  the  colonel 
had  not  been  in  Sylvie's  mind  she  would  have  said  to 
Pierrette  as  formerly,  "  Pierrette,  }rou  are  very  noisj7, 
and  very  regardless  of  what  you  have  often  been  told." 
But  now  the  old  maid  resolved  to  spy  upon  her  as  only 


170  Pierrette. 

old  maids  can  spy.  The  day  was  still  and  gloomy, 
like  the  weather  that  precedes  a  storm. 

"  You  don't  appear  to  be  ill  now,  mademoiselle,"  said 
Sylvie  at  dinner.  u  Did  n't  I  tell  you  she  put  it  all  on 
to  annoy  us  ? "  she  cried,  addressing  her  brother,  and 
not  waiting  for  Pierrette's  answer. 

"  On  the  contrary,  cousin,  I  have  a  sort  of  fever  —  " 

u  Fever!  what  fever?  You  are  as  gay  as  a  lark. 
Perhaps  you  have  seen  some  one  again  ? " 

Pierrette  trembled  and  dropped  her  eyes  on  her 
plate. 

"  Tartufe  !  "  cried  Sylvie  ;  "  and  only  fourteen  years 
old  !  what  a  nature !  Do  you  mean  to  come  to  a  bad 
end?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Pierrette, 
raising  her  sweet  and  luminous  brown  eyes  to  her 
cousin. 

"This  evening,"  said  S3Tlvie,  "  you  are  to  stay  in 
the  dining-room  with  a  candle,  and  do  your  sewing. 
You  are  not  wanted  in  the  salon ;  I  sha'n't  have  you 
looking  into  nry  hand  to  help  your  favorites." 

Pierrette  made  no  sign. 

"  Artful  creature  !  "  cried  Sylvie,  leaving  the  room. 

Rogron,  who  did  not  understand  his  sister's  anger, 
said  to  Pierrette:  "What  is  all  this  about?  Try  to 
please  your  cousin,  Pierrette  ;  she  is  ver}-  indulgent  to 
3'ou,  very  gentle,  and  if  you  put  her  out  of  temper  the 


Pierrette.  171 

fault  is  certainly  3'ours.  Why  do  }Tou  squabble  so? 
For  my  part  I  like  to  live  in  peace.  Look  at  Mademoi- 
selle Bathilde  and  take  pattern  by  her." 

Pierrette  felt  able  to  bear  everj'thing.  Brigaut  would 
come  at  midnight  and  bring  her  an  answer,  and  that 
hope  was  the  viaticum  of  her  da}'.  But  she  was  using 
up  her  last  strength.  She  did  not  go  to  bed,  and  stood 
waiting  for  the  hour  to  strike.  At  last  midnight 
sounded  ;  softly  she  opened  the  window  ;  this  time  she 
used  a  string  made  by  tying  bits  of  twine  together. 
She  had  heard  Brigaut's  step,  and  on  drawing  up  the 
cord  she  found  the  following  letter,  which  filled  her 
with  joy :  — 

My  dear  Pierrette, — As  you  are  so  ill  you  must 
not  tire  yourself  by  waiting  for  me.  You  will  hear  me 
if  I  cry  like  an  owl.  Happily  my  father  taught  me  to 
imitate  their  note.  So  when  you  hear  the  cry  three 
times  you  will  know  I  am  there,  and  then  you  must  let 
down  the  cord.  But  I  shall  not  come  again  for  some 
days.     I  hope  then  to  bring  you  good  news. 

Oh  !  Pierrette,  don't  talk  of  dying !  Pierrette,  don't 
think  such  things !  All  nry  heart  shook,  I  felt  as 
thougk  I  were  dead  myself  at  the  mere  idea.  No,  my 
Pierrette,  jtou  must  not  die ;  you  will  live  happy,  and 
soon  yo\x  shall  be  delivered  from  your  persecutors.  If 
I  do  not  succeed  in  what  I  am  undertaking  for  your 


172  Pierrette. 

rescue,  I  shall  appeal  to  the  law,  and  I  shall  speak  out 
before  heaven  and  earth  and  tell  how  }rour  wicked 
relations  are  treating  you.  I  am  certain  that  you  have 
not  many  more  days  to  suffer;  have  patience,  my 
Pierrette !  Jacques  is  watching  over  3-011  as  in  the 
old  days  when  we  slid  on  the  pond  and  I  pulled  you  out 
of  the  hole  in  which  we  were  nearly  drowned  together. 

Adieu,  m3T  dear  Pierrette ;  in  a  few  da3's,  if  God 
wills,  we  shall  be  happ3T.  Alas,  I  dare  not  tell  3rou  the 
only  thing  that  may  hinder  our  meeting.  But  God 
loves  us  !  In  a  few  days  I  shall  see  my  dear  Pierrette 
at  liberty,  without  troubles,  without  an3r  one  to  hinder 
my  looking  at  3*011  —  for,  ah  !  Pierrette,  I  hunger  to  see 
3'ou  —  Pierrette,  Pierrette,  who  deigns  to  love  me  and 
to  tell  me  so.  Yes,  Pierrette,  I  will  be  your  lover 
when  I  have  earned  the  fortune  you  deserve ;  till  then 
I  will  be  to  you  only  a  devoted  servant  whose  life  is 
yours  to  do  what  3-ou  please  with  it.    Adieu. 

Jacques  Brigaut. 

Here  is  a  letter  of  which  the  major's  son  said  nothing 
to  Pierrette.  He  wrote  it  to  Madame  Lorrain  at 
Nantes :  — 

Madame  Lorrain,  —  Your  granddaughter  will  die, 
worn-out  with  ill-treatment,  if  3'ou  do  not  come  to  fetch 
her.     I  could  scarcely  recognize  her ;  and  to  show  3'ou 


Pierrette.  173 


the  state  of  things  I  inclose  a  letter  I  have  received 
from  Pierrette.  You  are  thought  here  to  have  taken 
the  money  of  your  granddaughter,  and  }*ou  ought  to 
justify  yourself.  If  you  can,  come  at  once.  We  may 
still  be  happy  ;  but  if  you  delay  Pierrette  will  be  dead. 
I  am,  with  respect,  your  devoted  servant, 

Jacques  Brigaut. 
At  Monsieur  Frappier's,  Cabinet-maker,  Grand'Rue,  Provins. 

Brigaut's  fear  was  that  the  grandmother  was  dead. 

Though  this  letter  of  the  youth  whom  in  her  inno- 
cence she  called  her  lover  was  almost  enigmatical  to 
Pierrette,  she  believed  in  it  with  all  her  virgin  faith. 
Her  heart  was  filled  with  that  sensation  which  travellers 
in  the  desert  feel  when  they  see  from  afar  the  palm-trees 
round  a  well.  In  a  few  days  her  misery  would  end  — 
Jacques  said  so.  She  relied  on  this  promise  of  her 
childhood's  friend ;  and  yet,  as  she  laid  the  letter  be- 
side the  other,  a  dreadful  thought  came  to  her  in 
foreboding  words. 

"Poor  Jacques,"  she  said  to  herself,  "he  does  not 
know  the  hole  into  which  I  have  now  fallen !  " 

Sylvie  had  heard  Pierrette,  and  she  had  also  heard 
Brigaut  under  her  window.  She  jumped  out  of  bed  and 
rushed  to  the  window  to  look  through  the  blinds  into 
the  square  and  there  she  saw,  in  the  moonlight,  a  man 
hurrying   in   the   direction   of  the   colonel's   house,  in 


174  Pierrette. 

front  of  which  Brigaut  happened  to  stop.  The  old 
maid  gently  opened  her  door,  went  upstairs,  was 
amazed  to  find  a  light  in  Pierrette's  room,  looked 
through  the  keyhole,  and  could  see  nothing. 

"  Pierrette,"  she  said,  "  are  you  ill?" 

"  No,  cousin,"  said  Pierrette,  surprised. 

"  Why  is  your  candle  burning  at  this  time  of  night? 
Open  the  door ;  I  must  know  what  this  means." 

Pierrette  went  to  the  door  bare-footed,  and  as  soon 
as  Sylvie  entered  the  room  she  saw  the  cord,  which 
Pierrette  had  forgotten  to  put  away,  not  dreaming  of 
a  surprise.     Sylvie  jumped  upon  it. 

"  What  is  that  for?  "  she  asked. 

"Nothing,  cousin." 

"  Nothing!"  she  cried.  "Alwa}rs  lying;  3'ou'll 
never  get  to  heaven  that  way.  Go  to  bed  ;  you  '11  take 
cold." 

She  asked  no  more  questions  and  went  awa}* ,  leaving 
Pierrette  terrified  by  her  unusual  clemency.  Instead 
of  exploding  with  rage,  Sylvie  had  suddenly  deter- 
mined to  surprise  Pierrette  and  the  colonel  together, 
to  seize  their  letters  and  confound  the  two  lovers  who 
were  deceiving  her.  Pierrette,  inspired  by  a  sense  of 
danger,  sewed  the  letters  into  her  corset  and  covered 
them  with  calico. 

Here  end  the  loves  of  Pierrette  and  Brigaut. 

Pierrette  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  Jacques  had 


Pierrette.  175 


determined  to  hold  no  communication  with  her  for 
some  days,  because  her  cousin's  suspicions  would  be 
quieted  by  finding  nothing  to  feed  them.  Sylvie  did 
in  fact  spend  the  next  three  nights  on  her  legs,  and 
each  evening  in  watching  the  innocent  colonel,  without 
discovering  either  in  him  or  in  Pierrette,  or  in  the  house 
or  out  of  it,  anything  that  betrayed  their  understand- 
ing. She  sent  Pierrette  to  confession,  and  seized  that 
moment  to  search  the  child's  room,  with  the  method 
and  penetration  of  a  spy  or  a  custom-house  officer. 
She  found  nothing.  Her  fury  reached  the  apogee  of 
human  sentiments.  If  Pierrette  had  been  there  she 
would  certainly  have  struck  her  remorselessly.  To  a 
woman  of  her  temper,  jealousy  was  less  a  sentiment 
than  an  occupation ;  she  existed  in  it,  it  made  her 
heart  beat,  she  felt  emotions  hitherto  completely  un- 
known to  her ;  the  slightest  sound  or  movement  kept 
her  on  the  qui  vive  ;  she  watched  Pierrette  with  gloomy 
intentness. 

"  That  miserable  little  wretch  will  kill  me,"  she  said. 

Sylvie's  severity  to  her  cousin  reached  the  point  of 
refined  cruelty,  and  made  the  deplorable  condition  of 
the  poor  girl  worse  daily.  She  had  fever  regularly, 
and  the  pains  in  her  head  became  intolerable.  Ity  the 
end  of  the  week  even  the  visitors  at  the  house  noticed 
her  suffering  face,  which  would  have  touched  to  pity  all 
selfishness  less   cruel  than   theirs.     It   happened  that 


176  Pierrette. 

Doctor  Neraud,  possibly  by  Vmet's  advice,  did  not 
come  to  the  house  during  that  week.  The  colonel, 
knowing  himself  suspected  by  Sylvie,  was  afraid  to 
risk  his  marriage  by  showing  an}'  solicitude  for  Pier- 
rette. Bathilde  explained  the  visible  change  in  the 
girl  by  her  natural  growth.  But  at  last,  one  Sunda}' 
evening,  when  Pierrette  was  in  the  salon,  her  suffer- 
ings overcame  her  and  she  fainted  away.  The  colonel, 
who  first  saw  her  going,  caught  her  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  to  a  sofa. 

"  She  did  it  on  purpose,"  said  Sylvie,  looking  at 
Mademoiselle  Habert  and  the  rest  who  were  playing 
boston  with  her. 

"  I  assure  jTou  your  cousin  is  very  ill,"  said  the 
colonel. 

"  She  seemed  well  enough  in  j'our  arms,'*  Sylvie 
said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  savage  smile. 

"  The  colonel  is  right,"  said  Madame  de  Chargebceuf. 
"  You  ought  to  send  for  a  doctor.  This  morning  at 
church  every  one  was  speaking,  as  they  came  out,  of 
Mademoiselle  Lorrain's  appearance." 

"Iain  dying,"  said  Pierrette. 

Desfondrilles  called  to  Sjlvie  and  told  her  to  un- 
fasten her  cousin's  gown.  Sylvie  went  up  to  the  girl, 
saying,  M  It  is  only  a  tantrum." 

She  unfastened  the  gown  and  was  about  to  touch 
the  corset,  when  Pierrette,  roused  b}'  the  danger,  sat 


Pierrette.  '  177 

•  up  with  superhuman  strength,   exclaiming,   "  No,  no, 
I  will  go  to  bed." 

Sylvie  had,  however,  touched  the  corset  and  felt  the 
papers.     She  let  Pierrette  go,  saying  to  the  company : 

"  What  do  3'ou  think  now  of  her  illness?  I  tell  you 
it  is  all  a  pretence.  ,  You  have  no  idea  of  the  perversity 
of  that  child." 

After  the  card-pla}Ting  was  over  she  kept  Vinet  from 
following  the  other  guests  ;  she  was  furious  and  wanted 
vengeance,  and  was  grossly  rude  to  the  colonel  when 
he  bade  her  good-night.  Gouraud  threw  a  look  at 
the  lavfyer  which  threatened  him  to  the  depths  of  his 
being  and  seemed  to  put  a  ball  in  his  entrails.  Sylvie 
told  Vinet  to  remain.  When  they  were  alone,  she 
said,  — 

"Never  in  my  life,  never  in  my  born  days,  will  I 
marry  the  colonel." 

"  Now  that  you  have  come  to  that  decision  I  may 
speak,"  said  the  lawyer.  "The  colonel  is  my  friend, 
but  I  am  more  yours  than  his.  Rogron  has  done  me 
services  which  I  can  never  forget.  I  am  as  strong  a 
friend  as  I  am  an  enemy.  Once  in  the  Chamber  I 
shall  rise  to  power,  and  I  will  make  your  brother  a 
receiver-general.  Now  swear  to  me,  before  I  say 
more,  that  }'ou  will  never  repeat  wThat  I  tell  you." 
(Sylvie  made  an  affirmative  sign.)  "  In  the  first  place, 
the  brave  colonel  is  a  gambler  —  " 
12 


178  Pierrette. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Sylvie. 

44  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  embarrassments  this  vice 
has  brought  upon  him,  he  might  have  been  a  marshal 
of  France,"  continued  Vinet.  "  He  is  capable  of  run- 
ning through  your  property  ;  but  he  is  very  astute  ;  you 
cannot  be  sure  of  not  having  children,  and  }rou  told  me 
3rourself  the  risks  you  feared.  No,  if  you  want  to 
marry,  wait  till  I  am  in  the  Chamber  and  then  take 
that  old  Desfondrilles,  who  shall  be  made  chief  justice. 
If  you  want  revenge  on  the  colonel  make  your  brother 
marry  Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf, — I  can  get  her 
consent ;  she  has  two  thousand  francs  a  y ear,  and  you 
will  be  connected  with  the  de  Chargeboeufs  as  I  am. 
Recollect  what  I  tell  you,  the  Chargeboeufs  will  be  glad 
to  claim  us  for  cousins  some  day." 

44  Gouraud  loves  Pierrette,"  was  Sylvie's  only 
answer. 

44  He  is  quite  capable  of  it,"  said  Vinet,  4'  and  capable 
of  manying  her  after  your  death." 

44  A  fine  calculation  !  "  she  said. 

44 1  tell  you  that  man  has  the  shrewdness  of  the 
devil.  Marry  your  brother  and  announce  that  you 
mean  to  remain  unmarried  and  will  leave  your  property 
to  your  nephews  and  nieces.  That  will  strike  a  blow  at 
Gouraud  and  Pierrette  both !  and  you  '11  see  the  faces 
they'll  make." 

44  Ah  !  that 's  true,"  cried  the  old  maid,  44 1  can  serve 


Pierrette.  179 

them  both  right.  She  shall  go  to  a  shop,  and  get 
nothing  from  me.  She  has  n't  a  sou  ;  let  her  do  as  we 
did,  —  work." 

Vinet  departed,  having  put  his  plan  into  Sylvie's 
head,  her  dogged  obstinacy  being  well-known  to  him. 
The  old  maid,  he  was  certain,  would  think  the  scheme 
her  own,  and  carry  it  out. 

The  lawyer  found  the  colonel  in  the  square,  smoking 
a  cigar  while  he  waited  for  him. 

"  Halt ! "  said  Gouraud  ;  "  you  have  pulled  me  down, 
but  stones  enough  came  with  me  to  bury  you  —  " 

"Colonel!  —  " 

"  Colonel  or  not,  I  shall  give  you  your  deserts.  In 
the  first  place,  you  shall  not  be  deputy  —  " 

"Colonel!  —  " 

"  I  control  ten  votes  and  the  election  depends 
on  —  " 

"  Colonel,  listen  to  me.  Is  there  no  one  to  marry 
but  that  old  S}Tlvie?  I  have  just  been  defending  you 
to  her ;  you  are  accused  and  convicted  of  writing  to 
Pierrette ;  she  saw  you  leave  your  house  at  midnight 
and  come  to  the  girl's  window  —  " 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  " 

"She  means  to  marry  her  brother  to  Bathilde  and 
leave  her  fortune  to  their  children." 

"  Rogron  won't  have  any." 

"  Yes  he  will,"  replied  Vinet.     "  But  I  promise  to 


180  Pierrette. 

find  you  some  young  and  agreeable  woman  with  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs?  Don't  be  a  fool  ; 
how  can  you  and  I  afford  to  quarrel?  Things  have 
gone  against  you  in  spite  of  all  my  care ;  but  30U  don't 
understand  me." 

"Then  we  must  understand  each  other,"  said  the 
colonel.  "Get  me  a  wife  with  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs  before  the  elections ;  if  not  —  look  out 
for  yourself !  I  don't  like  unpleasant  bed-fellows,  and 
3'ou  've  pulled  the  blankets  all  over  to  your  side.  Good- 
evening." 

"You  shall  see,"  said  Vinet,  grasping  the  colonel's 
hand  affectionately. 

About  one  o'clock  that  night  three  clear,  sharp  cries 
of  an  owl,  wonderfully  well  imitated,  echoed  through  the 
square.  Pierrette  heard  them  in  her  feverish  sleep  ;  she 
jumped  up,  moist  with  perspiration,  opened  her  window, 
saw  Brigaut,  and  flung  down  a  ball  of  silk,  to  which  he 
fastened  a  letter.  Sylvie,  agitated  by  the  events  of 
the  day  and  her  own  indecision  of  mind,  was  not  asleep  ; 
she  heard  the  owl. 

"Ah,  bird  of  ill-omen!"  she  thought.  "  WI13*, 
Pierrette  is  getting  up  !     What  is  she  after?  " 

Hearing  the  attic  window  open  softty,  Sylvie  rushed 
to  her  own  window  and  heard  the  rustle  of  paper 
against  her  blinds.     She   fastened  the  strings  of  her 


Pierrette.  181 


bed-gown  and  went  quickly  upstairs  to  Pierrette's  room, 
where  she  found  the  poor  girl  unwinding  the  silk  and 
freeing  the  letter. 

M  Ha !  I've  caught  you  ! "  cried  the  old  woman,  rush- 
ing to  the  window,  from  which  she  saw  Jacques  running 
at  full  speed.     "  Give  me  that  letter." 

"  No,  cousin,"  said  Pierrette,  who,  by  one  of  those 
strong  inspirations  of  youth  sustained  by  her  own  soul, 
rose  to  a  grandeur  of  resistance  such  as  we  admire  in 
the  history  of  certain  peoples  reduced  to  despair. 

u  Ha !  you  will  not?  "  cried  Sylvie,  advancing  upon 
the  girl  with  a  face  full  of  hatred  and  fury. 

Pierrette  fell  back  to  get  time  to  put  her  letter  in  her 
hand,  which  she  clenched  with  unnatural  force.  Seeing 
this  manoeuvre  Sylvie  grasped  the  delicate  white  hand 
of  the  girl  in  her  lobster  claws  and  tried  to  open  it.  It 
was  a  frightful  struggle,  an  infamous  struggle ;  it  was 
more  than  a  physical  struggle  ;  it  assailed  the  mind,  the 
sole  treasure  of  the  human  being,  the  thought,  which 
God  has  placed  beyond  all  earthly  power  and  guards 
as  the  secret  way  between  the  sufferer  and  Himself. 
The  two  women,  one  dying,  the  other  in  the  vigor  of 
health,  looked  at  each  other  fixedly.  Pierrette's  eyes 
darted  on  her  executioner  the  look  the  famous  Templar 
on  the  rack  cast  upon  Philippe  le  Bel,  who  could  not 
bear  it  and  fled  thunderstricken.  Sylvie,  a  woman  and 
a  jealous  woman,  answered  that  magnetic  look   with 


182  Pierrette. 

malignant  flashes.  A  dreadful  silence  reigned.  The 
clenched  hand  of  the  Breton  girl  resisted  her  cousin's 
efforts  like  a  block  of  steel.  Sylvie  twisted  Pierrette's 
arm,  she  tried  to  force  the  fingers  open ;  unable  to  do 
so  she  stuck  her  nails  into  the  flesh.  At  last,  in  her 
madness,  she  set  her  teeth  into  the  wrist,  trying  to 
conquer  the  girl  by  pain.  Pierrette  defied  her  still, 
with  that  same  terrible  glance  of  innocence.  The 
anger  of  the  old  maid  grew  to  such  a  pitch  that  it 
became  blind  fury.  She  seized  Pierrette's  arm  and 
struck  the  closed  fist  upon  the  window-sill,  and  then 
upon  the  marble  of  the  mantelpiece,  as  we  crack  a  nut 
to  get  the  kernel. 

"Help!  help!"  cried  Pierrette,  "they  are  murder- 
ing me ! " 

"  Ha !  you  may  well  scream,  when  I  catch  you  with 
a  lover  in  the  dead  of  night." 

And  she  beat  the  hand  pitilessly. 

"  Help  !  help  !  "  cried  Pierrette,  the  blood  flowing. 

At  that  instant  loud  knocks  were  heard  at  the  front 
door.     Exhausted,  the  two  women  paused  a  moment. 

Rogron,  awakened  and  uneasy,  not  knowing  what 
was  happening,  had  got  up,  gone  to  his  sister's  room, 
and  not  finding  her  was  frightened.  Hearing  the 
knocks  he  went  down,  unfastened  the  front  door,  and 
was  nearly  knocked  over  by  Brigaut,  followed  by  a 
sort  of  phantom. 


A    *■         4-Ulr, 


Pierrette.  183 


At  this  moment  Sylvie's  eyes  chanced  to  fall  on 
Pierrette's  corset,  and  she  remembered  the  papers. 
Releasing  the  girl's  wrist  she  sprang  upon  the  corset 
like  a  tiger  on  its  pre}r,  and  showed  it  to  Pierrette  with 
a  smile,  —  the  smile  of  an  Iroquois  over  his  victim 
before  he  scalps  him. 

"I  am  dying,"  said  Pierrette,  falling  on  her  knees, 
"  oh,  who  will  save  me?  " 

"  I !  "  said  a  woman  with  white  hair  and  an  aged 
parchment  face,  in  which  two  gray  eyes  glittered. 

uAh!  grandmother,  you  have  come  too  late,"  cried 
the  poor  child,  bursting  into  tears. 

Pierrette  fell  upon  her  bed,  her  strength  all  gone, 
half-dead  with  the  exhaustion  which,  in  her  feeble  state, 
followed  so  violent  a  struggle.  The  tall  gray  woman 
took  her  in  her  arms,  as  a  nurse  lifts  a  child,  and  went 
out,  followed  by  Brigaut,  without  a  word  to  Sylvie,  on 
whom  she  cast  one  glance  of  majestic  accusation. 

The  apparition  of  that  august  old  woman,  in  her 
Breton  costume,  shrouded  in  her  coif  (a  sort  of  hooded 
mantle  of  black  cloth),  accompanied  by  Brigaut,  ap- 
palled Sylvie  ;  she  fancied  she  saw  death.  She  slowly 
went  down  the  stairs,  listened  to  the  front  door  closing 
behind  them,  and  came  face  to  face  with  her  brother, 
who  exclaimed  :   "  Then  they  have  n't  killed  }*ou?  " 

M  Go  to  bed,"  said  Sylvie.  "  To-morrow  we  will  see 
what  we  must  do." 


184  Pierrette. 

She  went  back  to  her  own  bed,  ripped  open  the 
corset,  and  read  Brigaut's  two  letters,  which  confounded 
her.  She  went  to  sleep  in  the  greatest  perplexity,  — not 
imagining  the  terrible  results  to  which  her  conduct  was 
to  lead. 

The  letters  sent  by  Brigaut  to  old  Madame  Lorrain 
reached  her  in  a  moment  of  ineffable  joy,  which  the 
perusal  of  them  troubled.  The  poor  old  woman  had 
grieved  deeply  in  living  without  her  Pierrette  beside 
her,  but  she  had  consoled  her  loneliness  with  the 
thought  that  the  sacrifice  of  herself  was  in  the  interests 
of  her  grandchild.  She  was  blessed  with  one  of  those 
ever-young  hearts  which  are  upheld  and  invigorated  by 
the  idea  of  sacrifice.  Her  old  husband,  whose  only  jo}T 
was  his  little  granddaughter,  had  grieved  for  Pierrette ; 
every  day  he  had  seemed  to  look  for  her.  It  was  an 
old  man's  grief,  —  on  which  such  old  men  live,  of  which 
they  die. 

Every  one  can  now  imagine  the  happiness  which 
this  poor  old  woman,  living  in  a  sort  of  almshouse, 
felt  when  she  learned  of  a  generous  action,  rare  indeed 
but  not  impossible  in  France.  The  head  of  the  house 
of  Collinet,  whose  failure  in  1814  had  caused  the 
Lorrains  a  loss  of  twenty-four  thousand  francs,  had 
gone  to  America  with  his  children  after  his  disasters. 
He  had  too  high  a  courage  to  remain  a  ruined  man. 


Pierrette.  185 


After  eleven  years  of  untold  effort  crowned  by  success 
he  returned  to  Nantes  to  recover  his  position,  leaving 
his  eldest  son  in  charge  of  his  transatlantic  house.  He 
found  Madame  Lorrain  of  Pen-Hoel  in  the  institution 
of  Saint-Jacques,  and  was  witness  of  the  resignation 
with  which  this  most  unfortunate  of  his  creditors  bore 
her  misery. 

"  God  forgive  you !  "  said  the  old  woman,  "  since  you 
give  me  on  the  borders  of  my  grave  the  means  of  se- 
curing the  happiness  of  my  dear  granddaughter ;  but 
alas  !  it  will  not  clear  the  debts  of  my  poor  husband !  " 

Monsieur  Collinet  made  over  to  the  widow  both  the 
capital  and  the  accrued  interest,  amounting  to  about 
forty-two  thousand  francs.  His  other  creditors,  pros- 
perous, rich,  and  intelligent  merchants,  had  easily 
borne  their  losses,  whereas  the  misfortunes  of  the  Lor- 
rains  seemed  so  irremediable  to  old  Monsieur  Collinet 
that  he  promised  the  widow  to  pay  off  her  husband's 
debts,  to  the  amount  of  forty  thousand  francs  more. 
When  the  Bourse  of  Nantes  heard  of  this  generous  repa- 
ration they  wished  to  receive  Collinet  to  their  board  be- 
fore his  certificates  were  granted  by  the  Royal  court  at 
Rennes ;  but  the  merchant  refused  the  honor,  prefer- 
ring to  submit  to  the  ordinary  commercial  rule. 

Madame  Lorrain  had  received  the  money  only  the 
day  before  the  post  brought  her  Brigaut's  letter,  in- 
closing that  of  Pierrette.     Her  first  thought  had  been, 


186  Pierrette. 

as  she  signed  the  receipt:  "  Now  I  can  live  with  my 
Pierrette  and  marry  her  to  that  good  Brigaut,  who  will 
make  a  fortune  with  my  money." 

Therefore  the  moment  she  had  read  the  fatal  letters 
she  made  instant  preparations  to  start  for  Provins. 
She  left  Nantes  that  night  by  the  mail ;  for  some  one 
had  explained  to  her  its  celerity.  In  Paris  she  took  the 
diligence  for  Troyes,  which  passes  through  Provins,  and 
by  half-past  eleven  at  night  she  reached  Frappier's, 
where  Brigaut,  shocked  at  her  despairing  looks,  told  her 
of  Pierrette's  state  and  promised  to  bring  the  poor  girl 
to  her  instantly.  His  words  so  terrified  the  grandmother 
that  she  could  not  control  her  impatience  and  followed 
him  to  the  square.  When  Pierrette  screamed,  the 
horror  of  that  cry  went  to  her  heart  as  sharply  as  it  did 
to  Brigaut's.  Together  the}'  would  have  roused  the 
neighborhood  if  Rogron,  in  his  terror,  had  not  opened 
the  door.  The  scream  of  the  joung  girl  at  h&y  gave 
her  grandmother  the  sudden  strength  of  anger  with 
which  she  carried  her  dear  Pierrette  in  her  arms  to 
Frappier's  house,  where  Madame  Frappier  hastily  ar- 
ranged Brigaut's  own  room  for  the  old  woman  and  her 
treasure.  In  that  poor  room,  on  a  bed  half-made,  the 
sufferer  was  deposited ;  and  there  she  fainted  away, 
holding  her  hand  still  clenched,  wounded,  bleeding, 
with  the  nails  deep  bedded  in  the  flesh.  Brigaut, 
Frappier,  his  wife,  and  the  old  woman  stood  looking  at 


Pierrette.  187 

Pierrette  in  silence,  all  four  of  them  in  a  state  of  inde- 
scribable amazement. 

"  Why  is  her  hand  bloody?"  said  the  grandmother 
at  last. 

Pierrette,  overcome  by  the  sleep  which  follows  all 
abnormal  displays  of  strength,  and  dimly  conscious 
that  she  was  safe  from  violence,  gradually  unbent  her 
fingers.     Brigaut's  letter  fell  from  them  like  an  answer. 

"  They  tried  to  take  my  letter  from  her,"  said  Bri- 
gaut,  falling  on  his  knees  and  picking  up  the  lines  in 
which  he  had  told  his  little  friend  to  come  instantly 
and  softly  away  from  the  house.  He  kissed  with  pious 
love  the  martyr's  hand. 

It  was  a  sight  that  made  those  present  tremble  when 
they  saw  the  old  gray  woman,  a  sublime  spectre,  standing 
beside  her  grandchild's  pillow.  Terror  and  vengeance 
wrote  their  fierce  expressions  in  the  wrinkles  that 
lined  her  skin  of  yellow  ivory ;  her  forehead,  half 
i  hidden  by  the  straggling  meshes  of  her  gra}r  hair, 
expressed  a  solemn  anger.  She  read,  with  a  power  of 
intuition  given  to  the  aged  when  near  their  grave, 
Pierrette's  whole  life,  on  which  her  mind  had  dwelt 
throughout  her  journey.  She  divined  the  illness  of  her 
darling,  and  knew  that  she  was  threatened  with  death. 
Two  big  tears  painfully  rose  in  her  wan  gray  e3^es, 
from  which  her  troubles  had  worn  both  lashes  and 
eyebrows,  two  pearls  of  anguish,  forming  within  them 


188  Pierrette. 

and  giving  them  a  dreadful  brightness ;  then  eaeh  tear 
swelled  and  rolled  down  the  withered  cheek,  but  did 
not  wet  it. 

"  They  have  killed  her!"  she  said  at  last,  clasping 
her  hands. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  which  struck  sharp  blows  on 
the  brick-laid  floor,  making  a  vow  no  doubt  to  Saint 
Anne  d'Auray,  the  most  powerful  of  the  madonnas  of 
Brittany. 

"  A  doctor  from  Paris,"  she  said  to  Brigaut.  "Go 
and  fetch  one,  Brigaut,  go !  " 

She  took  him  by  the  shoulder  and  gave  him  a  des- 
potic push  to  send  him  from  the  room. 

"  I  was  coming,  my  lad,  when  you  wrote  me ;  I  am 
rich,  —  here,  take  this,"  she  cried,  recalling  him,  and 
unfastening  as  she  spoke  the  strings  that  tied  her  short- 
gown.  Then  she  drew  a  paper  from  her  bosom  in 
which  were  fortj'-two  bank-bills,  saying,  "  Take  what 
is  necessary,  and  bring  back  the  greatest  doctor  in 
Paris." 

"Keep  those,"  said  Frappier;  "  he  can't  change 
thousand  franc  notes  now.  I  have  money,  and  the 
diligence  will  be  passing  presently ;  he  can  certainly 
find  a  place  on  it.  But  before  he  goes  we  had  better 
consult  Doctor  Martener ;  he  will  tell  us  the  best  physi- 
cian in  Paris.  The  diligence  won't  pass  for  over  an 
hour,  —  we  have  time  enough." 


Pierrette.  189 

Brigaut  woke  up  Monsieur  Marteuer,  and  brought 
lim  at  once.  The  doctor  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
find  Mademoiselle  Lorrain  at  Frappier's.  Brigaut  told 
him  of  the  scene  that  had  just  taken  place  at  the  Ro- 
grons' ;  but  even  so  the  doctor  did  not  at  first  suspect 
the  horror  of  it,  nor  the  extent  of  the  injury  done. 
Martener  gave  the  address  of  the  celebrated  Horace 
Bianchon,  and  Brigaut  started  for  Paris  by  the  diligence. 
Monsieur  Martener  then  sat  down  and  examined  first 
the  bruised  and  bloody  hand  which  lay  outside  the 
bed. 

"  She  could  not  have  given  these  wounds  herself," 
he  said. 

"No;  the  horrible  woman  to  whom  I  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  trust  her  was  murdering  her,"  said  the 
grandmother.  "  My  poor  Pierrette  was  screaming 
i  Help !  help  !  I  'm  dying/  —  enough  to  touch  the  heart 
of  an  executioner." 

4 'But  why  was  it?"  said  the  doctor,  feeling  Pier- 
rette's pulse.  "  She  is  very  ill,"  he  added,  examining 
her  with  a  light.  "  She  must  have  suffered  terribly ; 
I  don't  understand  why  she  has  not  been  properly 
cared  for." 

u  I  shall  complain  to  the  authorities,"  said  the  grand- 
mother. "  Those  Rogrons  asked  me  for  my  child 
in  a  letter,  saying  they  had  twelve  thousand  francs  a 
year  and  would  take  care  of  her ;  had  they  the  right  to 


PiemtU. 

er  to  do  wotk  tar 


"  They  owl  mot  choose  to  ace  the  nost  risible  of  al 
anladiestowloeh  yoaag  girfc  are  hahle,    She 

Pierrette  was  tffabwd  by  the  bgbt  wind 
Frappier  was  bofcfiag  oar  ber  face,  aod  by  toe  horrible 
io  ber  head  coated  by  the  reaetioo  of  ber 


r,Ia»TtrraV* 
her  pretty  Toiee. 

if  the  poo,  ory  little  fiieod?"'  asked  foe 


.Here*    oie  oiud«  tooehtasr  her  ocad  aoore  the  pffr 


*•  There'*  00  abseeos,"  said  the  doctor,  after 
the  heed  lor  a  loag  tine  aod  qoprtioctog  Pierrette  00 
ber  iarnb%i  « Yoo  nost  tell  os  all,  ny  child,  so 
tint  one  any  koow  bow  to  care  yon.  Why  is  yoar 
fike  nw?    Too  coald  aot  bare  grrea  yoandf 


V*TrrtUtT*h^tbe*tra^tewtahauM^beT 
eooanSrlrie. 

"  Make  her  talk,"  said  the  doctor  to  the  graodnotber, 
"aod  lad  oat  the  whole  troth.  I  will  wait  the  arrival 
of  the  doctor  fton  Paris;  aod  we  will  scad  for  the  sor- 
of  the  hotfiftal  here,  aod  bare  a 


Pierrette.  191 

tation.  The  case  seems  to  me  a  very  serious  one. 
Meantime  I  will  send  you  a  quieting  draught  so  that 
mademoiselle  may  sleep  ;  she  needs  sleep." 

Left  alone  with  her  granddaughter  the  old  Breton 
woman  exerted  her  influence  over  the  child  and  made 
her  tell  all;  she  let  her  know  that  she  had  money 
enough  now  for  all  three,  and  promised  that  Brigaut 
should  live  with  them.  The  poor  girl  admitted  Iht 
martyrdom,  not  imagining  the  events  to  which  her  ad- 
missions would  give  rise.  The  monstrosity  of  two 
beings  without  affection  and  without  conception  of 
family  life  opened  to  the  old  woman  a  world  of  woe 
as  far  from  her  knowledge  as  the  morals  of  sava^vs 
may  have  seemed  to  the  first  discoverers  who  set  foot 
in  America. 

The  arrival  of  her  grandmother,  the  certainty  of 
living  with  her  in  comfort  soothed  Pierrette's  mind  as 
the  sleeping  draught  soothed  her  body.  The  old  woman 
watched  her  darling,  kissing  her  forehead,  hair,  and 
hands,  as  the  holy  women  of  old  kissed  the  hands  of 
Jesus  when  they  laid  him  in  the  tomb. 


192  Pierrette. 


IX. 


THE   FAMILY   COUNCIL. 


At  nine  o'clock  that  morning  Monsieur  Martener 
went  to  see  Monsieur  Tiphaine,  and  related  to  him  the 
scene  between  Pierrette  and  S}ivie,  and  the  tortures  of 
all  kinds,  moral  and  physical,  to  which  the  Rogrons 
had  subjected  their  cousin,  and  the  two  alarming  forms 
of  illness  which  their  cruelty  had  developed.  Monsieur 
Tiphaine  sent  for  Auffray  the  notary,  one  of  Pierrette's 
own  relations  on  the  maternal  side. 

At  this  particular  time  the  war  between  the  Vinet 
party  and  the  Tiphaine  party  was  at  its  height.  The 
scandals  which  the  Rogrons  and  their  adherents  were 
disseminating  through  the  town  about  the  liaison  of 
Madame  Tiphaine' s  mother  with  the  banker  du  Tillet, 
and  the  bankruptcy  of  her  father  (a  forger,  they  said) , 
were  all  the  more  exasperating  to  the  Tiphaines  because 
these  things  were  malicious  truths,  not  libels.  Such 
wounds  cut  deep  ;  they  go  to  the  quick  of  feelings  and 
of  interests.  These  speeches,  repeated  to  the  parti- 
sans of  the  Tiphaines  by  the  same  mouths  which  told 
the  Rogrons  of  the  sneers  of  "  those  women  "  of  the 


Pierrette.  193 

Tiphaine  clique,  fed  the  hatreds  of  both  sides,  now  in- 
creased by  the  political  element.  The  animosities  caused 
at  this  time  in  France  by  the  spirit  of  part}',  the  vio- 
lences of  which  were  excessive,  were  everywhere  mixed 
up,  as  in  Provins,  with  selfish  schemes  and  wounded  or 
vindictive  individual  interests.  Each  party  eagerly 
seized  on  whatever  might  injure  the  rival  part}'.  Per- 
sonal hatreds  and  self-love  mingled  as  much  as  political 
animosity  in  even  the  smallest  matters,  and  were 
carried  to  hitherto  unheard-of  lengths.  A  whole  town 
would  be  roused  to  excitement  over  some  private  strug- 
gle, until  it  took  the  character  of  a  political  debate. 

Monsieur  Tiphaine  at  once  perceived  in  the  case  of 
Pierrette  against  the  Rogrons  a  means  of  humbling, 
mortifying,  and  dishonoring  the  masters  of  that  salon 
where  plans  against  the  monarchy  were  made  and  an 
opposition  journal  born.  The  public  prosecutor  was 
called  in ;  and  together  with  Monsieur  Auffray  the 
notar}',  Pierrette's  relation,  and  Monsieur  Martener,  a 
cautious  consultation  was  held  in  the  utmost  secrecy 
as  to  the  proper  course  to  follow.  Monsieur  Martener 
agreed  to  advise  Pierrette's  grandmother  to  apply  to 
the  courts  to  have  Auffray  appointed  guardian  to  his 
young  relation.  The  guardian  could  then  convene  a 
"  Family  Council,"  and,  backed  by  the  testimony  of 
three  doctors,  demand  the  girl's  release  from  the  au- 
thority  of   the   Rogrons.      The   affair   thus    managed 

13 


194  Pierrette. 

would  have  to  go  before  the  courts,  and  the  public 
prosecutor,  Monsieur  Lesourd,  would  see  that  it  was 
taken  to  a  criminal  court  by  demanding  an  inquiry. 

Towards  midday  all  Provins  was  roused  by  the 
strange  news  of  what  had  happened  during  the  night  at 
the  Rogrons'.  Pierrette's  cries  had  been  faintly  heard, 
though  they  were  soon  over.  No  one  had  risen  to 
inquire  what  they  meant,  but  every  one  said  the  next 
da}*,  "  Did  you  hear  those  screams  about  one  in  the 
morning?"  Gossip  and  comments  soon  magnified 
the  horrible  drama,  and  a  crowd  collected  in  front  of 
Frappier's  shop,  asking  the  worthy  cabinet-maker  for 
information,  and  hearing  from  him  how  Pierrette  was 
brought  to  his  house  with  her  fingers  broken  and  the 
hand  bloody. 

Towards  one  in  the  afternoon  the  post-chaise  of 
Doctor  Bianchon,  who  was  accompanied  by  Brigaut, 
stopped  before  the  house,  and  Madame  Frappier  went 
at  once  to  summon  Monsieur  Martener  and  the  sur- 
geon in  charge  of  the  hospital.  Thus  the  gossip  of  the 
town  received  confirmation.  The  Rogrons  were  de- 
clared to  have  ill-used  their  -cousin  deliberately,  and 
to  have  come  near  killing  her.  Vinet  heard  the  news 
while  attending  to  his  business  in  the  law  courts ;  he 
left  everything  and  hurried  to  the  Rogrons.  Rogron 
and  his  sister  had  just  finished  breakfast.  Sylvie  was 
reluctant  to  tell  her  brother  of  her  discomfiture  of  the 


... 


Pierrette.  195 


night  before ;  but  he  pressed  her  with  questions,  to 
which  she  would  make  no  other  answer  than,  "  That's 
not  your  business."  She  went  and  came  from  the 
kitchen  to  the  dining-room  on  pretence  of  preparing 
the  breakfast,  but  chiefly  to  avoid  discussion.  She 
was  alone  when  Vinet  entered. 

"  You  know  what 's  happened?"  said  the  lawyer. 

"No,"  said  Sylvie. 

"  You  will  be  arrested  on  a  criminal  charge,"  replied 
Vinet.  "from  the  way  things  are  now  going  about 
Pierrette." 

"  A  criminal  charge  !  "  cried  Rogron,  who  had  come 
into  the  room.     "Why?    What  for?" 

"First  of  all,"  said  the  lawyer,  looking  at  Sylvie, 
"  explain  to  me  without  concealment  and  as  if  you 
stood  before  God,  what  happened  in  this  house  last 
night  —  they  talk  of  amputating  Pierrette's  hand." 

Sylvie  turned  livid  and  shuddered. 

"  Then  there  is  some  truth  in  it?"  said  Vinet. 

Mademoiselle  Rogron  related  the  scene,  trying  to 
excuse  -herself ;  but,  prodded  with  questions,  she  ac- 
knowledged the  facts  of  the  horrible  struggle. 

"  If  you  have  only  injured  her  fingers  you  will  be 
taken  before  the  police  court  for  a  misdemeanor ;  but 
if  they  cut  off  her  hand  you  may  be  tried  at  the  As- 
sizes for  a  worse  offence.  The  Tiphaines  will  do  their 
best  to  get  you  there." 


196  Pierrette. 

Sylvie,  more  dead  than  alive,  confessed  her  jealousy, 
and,  what  was  harder  to  do,  confessed  also  that  her 
suspicions  were  unfounded. 

"Heavens,  what  a  case  this  will  make!"  cried  the 
lawyer.  "  You  and  jTour  brother  may  be  ruined  by 
it;  you  will  be  abandoned  by  most  people  whether 
you  win  or  lose.  If  you  lose,  you  will  have  to  leave 
Provins." 

"Oh,  my  dear  Monsieur  Vinet,  you  who  are  such  a 
great  lawyer,"  said  Rogron,  terrified,  "advise  us! 
save  us ! " 

The  crafty  Vinet  worked  the  terror  of  the  two  im- 
beciles to  its  utmost,  declaring  that  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Chargebceuf  might  be  unwilling  to 
enter  their  house  again.  To  be  abandoned  by  women 
of  their  rank  would  be  a  terrible  condemnation.  At 
length,  after  an  hour  of  adroit  manoeuvring,  it  was 
agreed  that  Vinet  must  have  some  powerful  motive 
in  taking  the  case,  that  would  impress  the  minds  of 
all  Provins  and  explain  his  efforts  on  behalf  of  the 
Rogrons.  This  motive  they  determined  should  be 
Rogron's  marriage  to  Mademoiselle  de  Chargeboeuf ;  it 
should  be  announced  that  very  day  and  the  banns 
published  on  Sunday.  The  contract  could  be  drawn 
immediately.  Mademoiselle  Rogron  agreed,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  marriage,  to  appear  in  the  contract 
as  settling  her  capital  on  her  brother,  retaining  only 


Pierrette.  197 


the  income  of  it.  Vinet  made  Rogron  and  his  sister 
comprehend  the  necessity  of  antedating  the  document 
by  two  or  three  days,  so  as  to  commit  the  mother  and 
daughter  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  and  give  them  a 
reason  for  continuing  their  visits. 

fc«  Sign  that  contract  and  I  '11  take  upon  myself  to 
get  you  safely  out  of  this  affair,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  There  will  be  a  terrible  fight;  but  I  will  put  my 
whole  soul  into  it  —  you  '11  have  to  make  me  a  votive 
offering." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  said  Rogron. 

By  half-past  eleven  the  lawyer  had  plenary  powers 
to  draw  the  contract  and  conduct  the  defence  of  the 
Rogrons.  At  twelve  o'clock  application  was  made  to 
Monsieur  Tiphaine,  as  a  judge  sitting  in  chambers, 
against  Brigaut  and  the  widow  Lorrain  for  having 
abducted  Pierrette  Lorrain,  a  minor,  from  the  house 
of  her  legal  guardian.  In  this  way  the  bold  lawyer 
became  the  aggressor  and  made  Rogron  the  injured 
party.  He  spoke  of  the  matter  from  this  point  of  view 
in  the  court-house. 

The  judge  postponed  the  hearing  till  four  o'clock. 
Needless  to  describe  the  excitement  in  the  town.  Mon- 
sieur Tiphaine  knew  that  by  three  o'clock  the  consulta- 
tion of  doctors  would  be  over  and  their  report  drawn 
up  ;  he  wished  Auffray,  as  surrogate-guardian,  to  be  at 
the  hearing  armed  with  that  report. 


198  Pierrette. 

The  announcement  of  Rogron's  marriage  and  the 
sacrifices  made  by  Sylvie  in  the  contract  alienated  two 
important  supporters  from  the  brother  and  sister, 
namely,  —  Mademoiselle  Habert  and  the  colonel,  whose 
hopes  were  thus  annihilated.  They  remained,  how- 
ever, ostensibly  on  the  Rogron  side  for  the  purpose  of 
injuring  it.  Consequently,  as  soon  as  Monsieur  Mar- 
tener  mentioned  the  alarming  condition  of  Pierrette's 
head,  Celeste  and  the  colonel  told  of  the  blow  she  had 
given  herself  during  the  evening  when  Sylvie  had 
forced  her  to  leave  the  salon ;  and  they  related  the 
old  maid's  barbarous  and  unfeeling  comments,  with 
other  statements  proving  her  cruelty  to  her  suffering 
cousin.  Vinet  had  foreseen  this  storm ;  but  he  had 
won  the  entire  fortune  of  the  Rogrons  for  Mademoi- 
selle de  Chargebceuf,  and  he  promised  himself  that  in  a 
few  weeks  she  should  be  mistress  of  the  Rogron  house, 
and  reign  with  him  over  Provins,  and  even  bring 
about  a  fusion  with  the  Breauteys  and  the  aristocrats 
in  the  interests  of  his  ambition. 

From  midday  to  four  o'clock  all  the  ladies  of  the 
Tiphaine  clique  sent  to  inquire  after  Mademoiselle 
Lorrain.  She,  poor  girl,  was  wholly  ignorant  of  the 
commotion  she  was  causing  in  the  little  town.  In  the 
midst  of  her  sufferings  she  was  ineffably  happ}'  in 
recovering  her  grandmother  and  Brigaut,  the  two  ob- 
jects of  her  affection.     Brigaut's  eyes  were  constantly 


Pierrette.  199 


full  of  tears.  The  old  grandmother  sat  by  the  bed  and 
caressed  her  darling.  To  the  three  doctors  she  told 
every  detail  she  had  obtained  from  Pierrette  as  to  her 
life  in  the  Rogron  house.  Horace  Bianchon  expressed 
his  indignation  in  vehement  language.  Shocked  at 
such  barbarity  he  insisted  on  all  the  plrysicians  in  the 
town  being  called  in  to  see  the  case  ;  the  consequence 
was  that  Dr.  N6raud,  the  friend  of  the  Rogrons,  was 
present.  The  report  was  unanimously  signed.  It  is 
useless  to  give  the  text  of  it  here.  If  Moliere's  medi- 
cal terms  were  barbarous,  those  of  modern  science 
have  the  advantage  of  being  so  clear  that  the  explana- 
tion of  Pierrette's  malady,  though  natural  and  unfor- 
tunately common,   horrified  all  ears. 

At  four  o'clock,  after  the  usual  rising  of  the  court, 
president  Tiphaine  again  took  his  seat,  when  Madame 
Lorrain,  accompanied  by  Monsieur  Auffray  and  Bri- 
gaut  and  a  crowd  of  interested  persons,  entered  the 
court-room.  Vinet  was  alone.  This  contrast  struck 
the  minds  of  those  present.  The  lawyer,  who  still 
wore  his  robe,  turned  his  cold  face  to  the  judge,  settled 
his  spectacles  on  his  pallid  green  ej^es,  and  then  in  a 
shrill,  persistent  voice  he  stated  that  two  strangers  had 
forced  themselves  at  night  into  the  Rogron  domicile 
and  had  abducted  therefrom  the  minor  Lorrain.  The 
legal  rights  were  with  the  guardian,  who  now  demanded 
the  restoration  of  his  ward. 


200  Pierrette. 

Monsieur  Auffray  rose,  as  surrogate-guardian,  and 
requested  to  be  heard. 

"If  the  judge,"  he  said,  "will  admit  the  report, 
which  I  hold  in  my  hand,  signed  by  one  of  the  most 
famous  physicians  in  Paris,  and  by  all  the  physicians" 
in  Provins,  he  will  understand  not  only  that  the  de- 
mand of  the  Sieur  Rogron  is  senseless,  but  also  that 
the  grandmother  of  the  minor  had  grave  cause  to 
instantly  remove  her  from  her  persecutors.  Here  are 
the  facts.  The  report  of  these  physicians  attribute  the 
almost  dying  condition  of  the  said  minor  to  the  ill- 
treatment  she  has  received  from  the  Sieur  Rogron  and 
his  sister.  We  shall,  as  the  law  directs,  convoke  a 
Family  Council  with  the  least"  possible  delay,  and  dis- 
cuss the  question  as  to  whether  or  not  the  guardian 
should  be  deposed.  And  we  now  ask  that  the  minor 
be  not  returned  to  the  domicile  of  the  said  guardian 
but  that  she  be  confided  to  some  member  of  her  family 
who  shall  be  designated  by  the  judge." 

Vinet  replied,  declaring  that  the  physicians'  report 
ought  to  have  been  submitted  to  him  in  order  that  he 
might  have  disproved  it. 

"  Not  submitted  to  your  side,"  said  the  judge, 
severely,  "  but  possibly  to  the  procureur  du  roi.  The 
case  is  heard." 

The  judge  then  wrote  at  the  bottom  of  the  petition 
the  following  order :  — 


Pierrette.  201 


*'  Whereas  it  appears,  from  a  deliberate  and  unani- 
mous report  of  all  the  physicians  of  this  town,  together 
with  Doctor  Bianchon  of  the  medical  faculty  of  Paris, 
that  the  minor  Lorrain,  claimed  by  Jerome-Denis 
Rogron,  her  guardian,  is  extremely  ill  in  consequence 
of  ill-treatment  and  personal  assault  in  the  house  of 
the  said  guardian  and  his  sister: 

"  We,  president  of  the  court  of  Provins,  passing  upon 
the  said  petition,  order  that  until  the  Family  Council  is 
held  the  minor  Lorrain  is  not  to  be  returned  to  the 
household  of  her  said  guardian,  but  shall  be  kept  in 
that  of  her  surrogate-guardian. 

M  And  further,  considering  the  state  in  which  the  said 
minor  now  is,  and  the  traces  of  violence  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  report  of  the  physicians,  are  now  upon  her 
person,  we  commission  the  attending  physician  and  the 
surgeon  in  charge  of  the  hospital  of  Provins  to  visit 
her,  and  in  case  the  injuries  from  the  said  assault  be- 
come alarming,  the  matter  will  be  held  to  await  the 
action  of  the  criminal  courts ;  and  this  without  preju- 
dice to  the  civil  suit  undertaken  by  Auffray  the  surro- 
gate-guardian." 

This  severe  judgment  was  read  out  by  President 
Tiphaine  in  a  loud  and  distinct  voice. 

"  Why  not  send  them  to  the  galleys  at  once?  "  said 
Vinet.  "  And  all  this  fuss  about  a  girl  who  was  carry- 
ing on  an  intrigue  with   an  apprentice  to  a   cabinet- 


202  Pierrette. 

maker !  If  the  case  goes  on  in  this  way,"  he  cried, 
insolently,  M  we  shall  demand  other  judges  on  the 
ground  of  legitimate  suspicion." 

Vinet  left  the  court-room,  and  went  among  the  chief 
men  of  his  party  to  explain  Rogron's  position,  declar- 
ing that  he  had  never  so  much  as  given  a  flip  to  his 
cousin,  and  that  the  judge  had  viewed  him  much  less 
as  Pierrette's  guardian  than  as  a  leading  elector  in 
Provins. 

To  hear  Vinet,  people  might  have  supposed  that  the 
Tiphaines  were  making  a  great  fuss  about  nothing ; 
the  mountain  was  bringing  forth  a  mouse.  Sylvie,  an 
eminently  virtuous  and  pious  woman,  had  discovered 
an  intrigue  between  her  brother's  ward  and  a  workman, 
a  Breton  named  Brigaut.  The  scoundrel  knew  very 
well  that  the  girl  would  have  her  grandmother's  mone}-, 
and  he  wished  to  seduce  her  (Vinet  to  talk  of  that!). 
Mademoiselle  Rogron,  who  had  discovered  letters 
proving  the  depravity  of  the  girl,  was  not  as  much  to 
blame  as  the  Tiphaines  were  trying  to  make  out.  If 
she  did  use  some  violence  to  get  possession  of  these 
letters  (which  was  no  wonder,  when  we  consider  what 
Breton  obstinacy  is),  how  could  Rogron  be  considered 
responsible  for  that? 

The  lawyer  went  on  to  make  the  matter  a  partisan 
affair,  and  to  give  it  a  political  color. 

"They  who  listen  to  only  one  bell  hear  only  one 


Pierrette.  203 

sound,"  said  the  wise  men.  "  Have  you  beard  what 
Vinet  says?    Vinet  explains  things  clearly." 

Frappier's  house  being  thought  injurious  to  Pierrette, 
owing  to  the  noise  in  the  street  which  increased  the  suf- 
ferings in  her  head,  she  was  taken  to  that  of  her  surro- 
gate guardian,  the  change  being  as  necessary  medically 
as  it  was  judicially.  The  removal  was  made  with  the 
utmost  caution,  and  was  calculated  to  produce  a  great 
public  effect.  Pierrette  was  laid  on  a  mattress  and 
carried  on  a  stretcher  b}'  two  men ;  a  Gray  Sister 
walked  beside  her  with  a  bottle  of  sal  volatile  in  her 
hand,  while  the  grandmother,  Brigaut,  Madame  Auffray, 
and  her  maid  followed.  People  were  at  their  windows 
and  doors  to  see  the  procession  pass.  Certainly  the 
state  in  which  they  saw  Pierrette,  pale  as  death,  gave 
immense  advantage  to  the  party  against  the  Rogrons. 
The  Auffra}7s  were  determined  to  prove  to  the  whole 
town  that  the  judge  was  right  in  the  decision  he  had 
given.  Pierrette  and  her  grandmother  were  installed 
on  the  second  floor  of  Monsieur  Auffray 's  house.  The 
notary  and  his  wife  gave  her  every  care  with  the 
greatest  hospitality,  which  was  not  without  a  little 
ostentation  in  it.  Pierrette  had  her  grandmother  to 
nurse  her;  and  Monsieur  Martener  and  the  head- 
surgeon  of  the  hospital  attended  her. 

On  the  evening  of  this  da}T  exaggerations  began  on 
both  sides.     The  Rogron  salon  was  crowded.     Vinet 


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206  Pierrette, 

tween  Pierrette  and  Brigaut,  which  justified  all  Made- 
moiselle Rogron's  severity.  He  showed  how  natural 
it  was  that  the  guardian  should  have  left  the  manage- 
ment of  his  ward  to  a  woman ;  he  dwelt  on  the  fact 
that  Rogron  had  not  interfered  with  Pierrette's  edu- 
cation as  planned  by  his  sister  Sylvie.  But  in  spite 
of  Vinet's  efforts  the  Council  were  unanimous  in  re- 
moving Rogron  from  the  guardianship.  Monsieur 
Auffray  was  appointed  in  his  place,  and  Monsieur 
Ciprey  was  made  surrogate.  The  Council  summoned 
before  it  and  examined  Adele,  the  servant-woman, 
who  testified  against  her  late  masters ;  also  Mademoi- 
selle Habert,  who  related  the  cruel  remarks  made  by 
Mademoiselle  Rogron  on  the  evening  when  Pierrette 
had  given  herself  a  frightful  blow,  heard  by  all  the 
company,  and  the  speech  of  Madame  de  Chargebceuf 
about  the  girl's  health.  Brigaut  produced  the  letter 
he  had  received  from  Pierrette,  which  proved  their 
innocence  and  stated  her  ill-treatment.  Proof  was 
given  that  the  condition  of  the  minor  was  the  result 
of  neglect  on  the  part  of  the  guardian,  who  was  re- 
sponsible for  all  that  concerned  his  ward.  Pierrette's 
illness  had  been  apparent  to  every  one,  even  to  per- 
sons in  the  town  who  were  strangers  to  the  family, 
yet  the  guardian  had  done  nothing  for  her.  The  charge 
of  ill-treatment  was  therefore  sustained  against  Ro- 
gron ;  and  the  case  would  now  go  before  the  public. 


Pierrette.  207 

Rogron,  advised  by  Vinet,  opposed  the  acceptance 
of  the  report  of  the  Council  by  the  court.  The  au- 
thorities then  intervened  in  consequence  of  Pierrette's 
state,  which  was  daily  growing  worse.  The  trial  of 
the  case,  though  placed  at  once  upon  the  docket,  was 
postponed  until  the  month  of  March,  1828,  to  wait 
events. 


208  Pierrette. 


VERDICTS LEGAL   AND    OTHER. 

Meantime  Rogron's  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Chargeboeuf  took  place.  Sylvie  moved  to  the  second 
floor  of  the  house,  which  she  shared  with  Madame  de 
Chargeboeuf,  for  the  first  floor  was  entirely  taken  up 
by  the  new  wife.  The  beautiful  Madame  Rogron  suc- 
ceeded to  the  social  place  of  the  beautiful  Madame 
Tiphaine.  The  influence  of  the  marriage  was  immense. 
No  one  now  came  to  visit  Sylvie,  but  Madame  Ro- 
gron's salon  was  always  full. 

Sustained  by  the  influence  of  his  mother-in-law  and 
the  bankers  du  Tillet  and  Nucingen,  Monsieur  Ti- 
phaine was  fortunate  enough  to  do  some  service  to 
the  administration ;  he  became  one  of  its  chief  ora- 
tors, was  made  judge  in  the  civil  courts,  and  ob- 
tained the  appointment  of  his  nephew  Lesourd  to  his 
own  vacant  place  as  president  of  the  court  of  Provins. 
This  appointment  greatly  annoyed  Desfondrilles.  The 
Keeper  of  the  Seals  sent  down  one  of  his  own  proteges 
to  fill  Lesourd's  place.  The  promotion  of  Monsieur 
Tiphaine  and  his  translation  to  Paris  were  therefore' of 


Pierrette.  209 


no  benefit  at  all  to  the  Vinet  party ;  but  Vinet  never- 
theless made  a  clever  use  of  the  result.  He  had  al- 
ways told  the  Provins  people  that  they  were  being 
used  as  a  stepping-stone  to  raise  the  crafty  Madame 
Tiphaine  into  grandeur ;  Tiphaine  himself  had  tricked 
them ;  Madame  Tiphaine  despised  both  Provins  and 
its  people  in  her  heart,  and  would  never  return  there 
again.  Just  at  this  crisis  Monsieur  Tiphaine's  father 
died  ;  his  son  inherited  a  fine  estate  and  sold  his  house 
in  Provins  to  Monsieur  Julliard.  The  sale  proved  to 
the  minds  of  all  how  little  the  Tiphaines  thought  of 
Provins.  Vinet  was  right;  Vinet  had  been  a  true 
prophet.  These  things  had  great  influence  on  the 
question  of  Pierrette's  guardianship. 

Thus  the  dreadful  martyrdom  brutally  inflicted  on 
the  poor  child  by  two  imbecile  tyrants  (which  led, 
through  its  consequences,  to  the  terrible  operation  of 
trepanning,  performed  by  Monsieur  Martener  under  the 
advice  of  Doctor  Bianchon),  —  all  this  horrible  drama 
reduced  to  judicial  form  was  left  to  float  in  the  vile 
mess  called  in  legal  parlance  the  calendar.  The  case 
was  made  to  drag  through  the  delays  and  the  inter- 
minable labyrinths  of  the  law,  by  the  shufflings  of 
an  unprincipled  lawyer;  and  during  all  this  time  the 
calumniated  girl  languished  in  the  agony  of  the  worst 
pain  known  to  science. 

Monsieur  Martener,  together  with  the  Auffray  family, 

14 


210  Pierrette. 

were  soon  charmed  by  the  beauty  of  Pierrette's  nature 
and  the  character  of  her  old  grandmother,  whose 
feelings,  ideas,  and  ways  bore  the  stamp  of  Roman 
antiquity,  — this  matron  of  the  Marais  was  like  a 
woman    in  Plutarch. 

Doctor  Martener  struggled  bravely  with  death,  which 
already  grasped  its  prey.  From  the  first,  Bianchon 
and  the  hospital  surgeon  had  considered  Pierrette 
doomed  ;  and  there  now  took  place  between  the  doctor 
and  the  disease,  the  former  relying  on  Pierrette's 
youth,  one  of  those  struggles  which  physicians  alone 
comprehend,  —  the  reward  of  which,  in  case  of  success, 
is  never  found  in  the  venal  pay  nor  in  the  patients 
themselves,  but  in  the  gentle  satisfactions  of  conscience, 
in  the  invisible  ideal  palm  gathered  by  true  artists 
from  the  contentment  which  fills  their  soul  after  ac- 
complishing a  noble  work.  The  physician  strains  to- 
wards good  as  the  artist  towards  beauty,  each  impelled 
by  that  grand  sentiment  which  we  call  virtue.  This 
daily  contest  wiped  out  of  Doctor  Martener's  mind  the 
petty  irritations  of  that  other  contest  of  the  Tiphaines 
and  the  Vinets,  — as  always  happens  to  men  when  they 
find  themselves  face  to  face  with  a  great  and  real  misery 
to  conquer. 

Monsieur  Martener  had  begun  his  career  in  Paris ; 
but  the  cruel  activity  of  the  city  and  its  insensibilit}'  to 
its  masses  of  suffering  had  shocked  his  gentle   soul, 


Pierrette.  211 

fitted  only  for  the  quiet  life  of  the  provinces.  More- 
over, he  was  under  the  yoke  of  his  beautiful  native 
land.  He  returned  to  Provins,  where  he  married  and 
settled,  and  cared  almost  lovingly  for  the  people,  who 
were  to  him  like  a  large  family.  During  the  whole  of 
Pierrette's  illness  he  was  careful  not  to  speak  of  her. 
His  reluctance  to  answer  the  questions  of  those  who 
asked  about  her  was  so  evident  that  persons  soon 
ceased  to  put  them.  Pierrette  was  to  him,  what  indeed 
she  truly  was,  a  poem,  mysterious,  profound,  vast  in 
suffering,  such  as  doctors  find  at  times  in  their  terrible 
experience.  He  felt  an  admiration  for  this  delicate 
young  creature  which  he  would  not  share  with  any  one. 
This  feeling  of  the  physician  for  his  patient  was, 
however,  unconsciously  communicated  (like  all  true 
feelings)  to  Monsieur  and  Madame  AurTray,  whose 
house  became,  so  long  as  Pierrette  was  in  it,  quiet 
and  silent.  The  children,  who  had  formerly  played  so 
joyously  with  her,  agreed  among  themselves  with  the 
loving  grace  of  childhood  to  be  neither  noisy  nor 
troublesome.  They  made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  be 
good  because  Pierrette  was  ill.  Monsieur  Auff ray's 
house  was  in  the  Upper  town,  beneath  the  ruins  of  the 
Chateau,  and  it  was  built  upon  a  sort  of  terrace  formed 
by  the  overthrow  of  the  old  ramparts.  The  occupants 
could  have  a  view  of  the  valley  from  the  little  fruit- 
garden  inclosed  by  walls  which  overlooked  the  town. 


212  Pierrette. 

The  roofs  of  the  other  houses  came  to  about  the  level 
of  the  lower  wall  of  this  garden.  Along  the  terrace 
ran  a  path,  by  which  Monsieur  Auffray's  study  could 
be  entered  through  a  glass  door ;  at  the  other  end  of 
the  path  was  an  arbor  of  grape  vines  and  a  fig-tree, 
beneath  which  stood  a  round  table,  a  bench  and  some 
chairs,  painted  green.  Pierrette's  bedroom  was  above 
the  studjr  of  her  new  guardian.  Madame  Lorrain 
slept  in  a  cot  beside  her  grandchild.  From  her  window 
Pierrette  could  see  the  whole  of  the  glorious  vallej^  of 
Provins,  which  she  hardly  knew,  so  seldom  had  she 
left  that  dreadful  house  of  the  Rogrons.  When  the 
weather  was  fine  she  loved  to  drag  herself,  resting 
on  her  grandmother's  arm,  to  the  vine-clad  arbor.  Bri- 
gaut,  unable  to  work,  came  three  times  a  day  to  see 
his  little  friend  ;  he  was  gnawed  by  a  grief  which  made 
him  indifferent  to  life.  He  lay  in  wait  like  a  dog  for 
Monsieur  Martener,  and  followed  him  when  he  left  the 
house.  The  old  grandmother,  drunk  with  grief,  had 
the  courage  to  conceal  her  despair;  she  showed  her 
darling  the  smiling  face  she  formerly  wore  at  Pen-Hoel. 
In  her  desire  to  produce  that  illusion  in  the  girl's  mind, 
she  made  her  a  little  Breton  cap  like  the  one  Pierrette 
had  worn  on  her  first  arrival  in  Provins ;  it  made  the 
darling  seem  more  like  her  childlike  self;  in  it  she  was 
delightful  to  look  upon,  her  sweet  face  circled  with  a 
halo  of  cambric  and  fluted  lace.     Her  skin,  white  with 


Pierrette.  213 

the  whiteness  of  unglazed  porcelain,  her  forehead, 
where  suffering  had  printed  the  semblance  of  deep 
thought,  the  purity  of  the  lines  refined  by  illness,  the 
slowness  of  the  glances,  and  the  occasional  fixity  of  the 
eyes,  made  Pierrette  an  almost  perfect  embodiment  of 
melancholy.  She  was  served  by  all  with  a  sort  of 
fanaticism ;  she  was  felt  to  be  so  gentle,  so  tender,  so 
loving.  Madame  Martener  sent  her  piano  to  her  sister 
Madame  Auffray,  thinking  to  amuse  Pierrette  who  was 
passionately  fond  of  music.  It  was  a  poem  to  watch 
her  listening  to  a  theme  of  Weber,  or  Beethoven,  or 
Herold,  —  her  eyes  raised,  her  lips  silent,  regretting  no 
doubt  the  life  she  felt  escaping  her.  The  cure  Peroux 
and  Monsieur  Habert,  her  two  religious  comforters, 
admired  her  saintly  resignation.  Surely  the  seraphic 
perfection  of  young  girls  and  young  men  marked  with 
the  hectic  of  death,  is  a  wonderful  fact  worthy  of  the 
attention  alike  of  philosophers  and  of  heedless  minds. 
He  who  has  ever  seen  one  of  these  sublime  departures 
from  this  life  can  never  remain,  or  become,  an  un- 
believer. Such  beings  exhale,  as  it  were,  a  celestial 
fragrance ;  their  glances  speak  of  God ;  their  voices 
are  eloquent  in  the  simplest  words ;  often  they  ring 
like  some  seraphic  instrument  revealing  the  secrets  of 
the  future.  When  Monsieur  Martener  praised  her  for 
having  faithfully  followed  a  harsh  prescription  the  little 
angel  replied,  and  with  what  a  glance !  — 


214  Pierrette. 

"  I  want  to  live,  dear  Monsieur  Martener ;  but  les3 
for  myself  than  for  my  grandmother,  for  my  Brigaut, 
for  all  of  you  who  will  grieve  at  my  death." 

The  first  time  she  went  into  the  garden  on  a  beauti- 
ful sunny  day  in  November  attended  by  all  the  house- 
hold, Madame  Auffray  asked  her  if  she  was  tired. 

"  No,  now  that  I  have  no  sufferings  but  those  God 
sends  I  can  bear  all,"  she  said.  "  The  joy  of  being 
loved  gives  me  strength  to  suffer." 

That  was  the  only  time  (and  then  vaguely)  that  she 
ever  alluded  to  her  horrible  martyrdom  at  the  Rogrons, 
whom  she  never  mentioned,  and  of  whom  no  one  re- 
minded her,  knowing  well  how  painful  the  memory 
must  be. 

"  Dear  Madame  Auffray,"  she  said  one  day  at  noon 
on  the  terrace,  as  she  gazed  at  the  valle}',  warmed  by  a 
glorious  sun  and  colored  with  the  glowing  tints  of 
autumn,  u  my  death  in  your  house  gives  me  more  hap- 
piness than  I  have  had  since  I  left  Brittany." 

Madame  Auffray  whispered  in  her  sister  Martener's 
ear:  — 

"  How  she  would  have  loved !  " 

In  truth,  her  tones,  her  looks  gave  to  her  words  a 
priceless  value. 

Monsieur  Martener  corresponded  with  Doctor  Bian- 
chon,  and  did  nothing  of  importance  without  his  advice. 
He  hoped  in  the  first  place  to  regulate  the  functions  of 


Pierrette.  215 

iture  and  to  draw  away  the  abscess  in  the  head  through 

le  ear.  The  more  Pierrette  suffered,  the  more  he 
hoped.  He  gained  some  slight  success  at  times,  and 
that  was  a  great  triumph.  For  several  days  Pierrette's 
appetite  returned  and  enabled  her  to  take  nourishing 
food  for  which  her  illness  had  given  her  a  repugnance  ; 
the  color  of  her  skin  changed  ;  but  the  condition  of  her 
head  was  terrible.  Monsieur  Martener  entreated  the 
great  physician  his  adviser  to  come  down.  Bianchon 
came,  stayed  two  days,  and  resolved  to  undertake  an 
operation.  To  spare  the  feelings  of  poor  Martener  he 
went  to  Paris  and  brought  back  with  him  the  celebrated 
Desplein.  Thus  the  operation  was  performed  by  the 
greatest  surgeon  of  ancient  or  modern  times  ;  but  that 
terrible  diviner  said  to  Martener  as  he  departed  with 
Bianchon,  his  best-beloved  pupil:  — 

"  Nothing  but  a  miracle  can  save  her.  As  Horace 
told  you,  caries  of  the  bone  has  begun.  At  her  age  the 
bones  are  so  tender." 

The  operation  was  performed  at  the  beginning  of 
March,  1828.  During  all  that  month,  distressed  by 
Pierrette's  horrible  sufferings,  Monsieur  Martener  made 
several  journeys  to  Paris ;  there  he  consulted  Desplein 
and  Bianchon,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  propose  to 
them  an  operation  of  the  nature  of  lithotrity,  which 
consists  in  passing  into  the  head  a  hollow  instrument 
by  the  help  of  which  an  heroic  remedy  can  be  applied 


216  Pierrette. 

to  the  diseased  bone,  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the 
caries.  Even  the  bold  Desplein  dared  not  attempt 
that  high-handed  surgical  measure,  which  despair  alone 
had  suggested  to  Martener.  When  he  returned  from 
this  journey  to  Paris  he  seemed  to  his  friends  morose 
and  gloomy.  He  was  forced  to  announce  on  that  fatal 
evening  to  the  Auffrays  and  Madame  Lorrain  and  to  the 
two  priests  and  Brigaut  that  science  could  do  no  more 
for  Pierrette,  whose  recovery  was  now  in  God's  hands 
only.  The  consternation  among  them  was  terrible.  The 
grandmother  made  a  vow,  and  requested  the  priests  to  say 
a  mass  every  morning  at  daybreak  before  Pierrette  rose, 
—  a  mass  at  which  she  and  Brigaut  might  be  present. 

The  trial  came  on.  While  the  victim  lay  dying, 
Vinet  was  calumniating  her  in  court.  The  judge  ap- 
proved and  accepted  the  report  of  the  Family  Council, 
and  Vinet  instantly  appealed.  The  newly  appointed 
procureur  du  roi  made  a  requisition  which  necessitated 
fresh  evidence.  Rogron  and  his  sister  were  forced  to 
give  bail  to  avoid  going  to  prison.  The  order  for  fresh 
evidence  included  that  of  Pierrette  herself.  When 
Monsieur  Desfondrilles  came  to  the  Auffrays'  to  receive 
it,  Pierrette  was  dying,  her  confessor  was  at  her  bedside 
about  to  administer  extreme  unction.  At  that  moment 
she  entreated  all  present  to  forgive  her  cousins  as  she 
herself  forgave  them,  sajing  with  her  simple  good  sense 
that  the  judgment  of  these  things  belonged  to  God  alone. 


Pierrette.  217 


"  Grandmother,"  she  said,  "  leave  all  you  have  to 
Brigaut"  (Brigaut  burst  into  tears)  ;  u  and,"  continued 
Pierrette,  "  give  a  thousand  francs  to  that  kind  Adele 
who  warmed  my  bed.  If  Adele  had  remained  with 
my  cousins  I  should  not  now  be  dying." 

It  was  at  three  o'clock  on  the  Tuesday  of  Easter 
week,  on  a  beautiful,  bright  day,  that  the  angel  ceased 
to  suffer.  Her  heroic  grandmother  wished  to  watch 
all  that  night  with  the  priests,  and  to  sew  with  her 
stiff  old  fingers  her  darling's  shroud.  Towards  even- 
ing Brigaut  left  the  Auffrays'  house  and  went  to 
Frappier's. 

"I  need  not  ask  you,  my  poor  boy,  for  news,"  said 
the  cabinet-maker. 

44  Pere  Frappier,  yes,  it  is  ended  for  her  —  but  not 
for  me." 

He  cast  a  look  upon  the  different  woods  piled  up 
around  the  shop,  —  a  look  of  painful  meaning. 

"  I  understand  you,  Brigaut,"  said  his  worthy 
master.  "  Take  all  you  want."  And  he  showed  him 
the  oaken  planks  of  two-inch  thickness. 

"Don't  help  me,  Monsieur  Frappier,"  said  the 
Breton,  "  I  wish  to  do  it  alone." 

He  passed  the  night  in  planing  and  fitting  Pier- 
rette's coffin,  and  more  than  once  his  plane  took  off 
at  a  single  pass  a  ribbon  of  wood  which  wa3  wet  with 
tears.    The  good  man  Frappier  smoked  his  pipe  and 


218  Pierrette. 

watched  him  silently,  saying  only,  when  the  four 
pieces  were  joined  together,  — 

"Make  the  cover  to  slide;  her  poor  grandmother 
will  not  hear  the  nails." 

At  daybreak  Brigaut  went  out  to  fetch  the  lead  to 
line  the  coffin.  By  a  strange  chance,  the  sheets  of  lead 
cost  just  the  sum  he  had  given  Pierrette  for  her  journey 
from  Nantes  to  Provins.  The  brave  Breton,  who  was 
able  to  resist  the  awful  pain  of  himself  making  the 
coffin  of  his  dear  one  and  lining  with  his  memories 
those  burial  planks,  could  not  bear  up  against  this 
strange  reminder.  His  strength  gave  way;  he  was 
not  able  to  lift  the  lead,  and  the  plumber,  seeing  this, 
came  with  him,  and  offered  to  accompany  him  to  the 
house  and  solder  the  last  sheet  when  the  body  had 
been  laid  in  the  coffin. 

The  Breton  burned  the  plane  and  all  the  tools  he 
had  used.  Then  he  settled  his  accounts  with  Frappier 
and  bade  him  farewell.  The  heroism  with  which  the 
poor  lad  personally  performed,  like  the  grandmother, 
the  last  offices  for  Pierrette  made  him  a  sharer  in 
the  awful  scene  which  crowned  the  tyranny  of  the 
Rogrons. 

Brigaut  and  the  plumber  reached  the  house  of  Mon- 
sieur Auffray  just  in  time  to  decide  by  their  own  main 
force  an  infamous  and  shocking  judicial  question. 
The  room  where  the  dead  girl  lay  was  full  of  people, 


Pierrette.  219 

and  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  a  singular 
sight.  The  Rogron  emissaries  were  standing  beside 
the  body  of  their  victim,  to  torture  her  even  after  death. 
The  corpse  of  the  child,  solemn  in  its  beauty,  lay  on 
the  cot-bed  of  her  grandmother.  Pierrette's  eyes  were 
closed,  the  brown  hair  smooth  upon  her  brow,  the  body 
swathed  in  a  coarse  cotton  sheet. 

Before  the  bed,  on  her  knees,  her  hair  in  disorder,  her 
hands  stretched  out,  her  face  on  fire,  the  old  Lorrain 
was  crying  out,  "  No,  no,  it  shall  not  be  done  !  " 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  Monsieur  Auffray  and 
the  two  priests.     The  tapers  were  still  burning. 

Opposite  to  the  grandmother  was  the  surgeon  of  the 
hospital,  with  an  assistant,  and  near  him  stood  Doctor 
N£raud  and  Vinet.  The  surgeon  wore  his  dissecting 
apron  ;  the  assistant  had  opened  a  case  of  instruments 
and  was  handing  him  a  knife. 

This  scene  was  interrupted  by  the  noise  of  the  coffin 
which  Brigaut  and  the  plumber  set  down  upon  the 
floor.  Then  Brigaut,  advancing,  was  horrified  at  the 
sight  of  Madame  Lorrain,  who  was  now  weeping. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  standing  beside 
her  and  grasping  the  chisel  convulsively  in  his  hand. 

"  This,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  this,  Brigaut:  they 
want  to  open  the  body  of  nry  child  and  cut  into  her 
head,  and  stab  her  heart  after  her  death  as  they  did 
when  she  was  living." 


220  Pierrette. 

"Who?"  said  Brigaut,  in  a  voice  that  might  have 
deafened  the  men  of  law. 

"  The  Rogrons." 

"  In  the  sacred  name  of  God  !  —  " 
.  "Stop,  Brigaut,"  said  Monsieur  Auffray,  seeing  the 
lad  brandish  his  chisel. 

"Monsieur  Auffray,"  said  Brigaut,  as  white  as  his 
dead  companion,  "I  hear  3-011  because  you  are  Mon- 
sieur Auffray,  but  at  this  moment  I  will  not  listen 
to  —  " 

"  The  law !  "  said  Auffray. 

"  Is  there  law?  is  there  justice?"  cried  the  Breton. 
"Justice,  this  is  it!"  and  he  advanced  to  the  lawyer 
and  the  doctors,  threatening  them  with  his  chisel. 

"My  friend,"  said  the  curate,  "the  law  has  been 
invoked  by  the  lawyer  of  Monsieur  Rogron,  who  is 
under  the  weight  of  a  serious  accusation ;  and  it  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  refuse  him  the  means  of  justification. 
The  lawyer  of  Monsieur  Rogron  claims  that  if  the  poor 
child  died  of  an  abscess  in  her  head  her  former  guardian 
cannot  be  blamed,  for  it  is  proved  that  Pierrette  con- 
cealed the  effects  of  the  blow  which  she  gave  to 
herself—  " 

"  Enough  !  "  said  Brigaut. 

"  My  client  —  "  began  Vinet. 

"  Your  client,"  cried  the  Breton,  "  shall  go  to  hell 
and  I  to  the  scaffold ;  for  if  one  of  you  dares  to  touch 


Pierrette.  221 

her  whom  your  client  has  killed,  I  will  kill  him  if  my 
weapon  does  its  duty." 

"  This  is  interference  with  the  law,"  said  Vinet.  "  I 
shall  instantly  inform  the  court." 

The  five  men  left  the  room. 

"Oh,  my  son!"  cried  the  old  woman,  rising  from 
her  knees  and  falling  on  Brigaut's  neck,  "  let  us  bury 
her  quick, — they  will  come  back." 

"If  we  solder  the  lead,"  said  the  plumber,  "  they 
may  not  dare  to  open  it." 

Monsieur  Auffray  hastened  to  his  brother-in-law, 
Monsieur  Lesourd,  to  try  and  settle  the  matter.  Vinet 
was  not  unwilling.  Pierrette  being  dead  the  suit  about 
the  guardianship  fell,  of  course,  to  the  ground.  All 
the  astute  lawyer  wanted  was  the  effect  produced  by 
his  request. 

At  midday  Monsieur  Desfondrilles  made  his  report 
on  the  case,  and  the  court  rendered  a  decision  that  there 
was  no  ground  for  further  action. 

Rogron  dared  not  go  to  Pierrette's  funeral,  at  which 
the  whole  town  was  present.  Vinet  wished  to  force 
him  there,  but  the  miserable  man  was  afraid  of  exciting 
universal  horror. 

Brigaut  left  Provins  after  watching  the  filling  up  of 
the  grave  where  Pierrette  lay,  and  went  on  foot  to 
Paris.  He  wrote  a  petition  to  the  Dauphiness  asking, 
in  the  name  of  his  father,  that  he  might  enter  the  Royal 


222  -  Pierrette. 

guard,  to  which  he  was  at  once  admitted.  When  the 
expedition  to  Algiers  was  undertaken  he  wrote  to  her 
again,  to  obtain  employment  in  it.  He  was  then  a  ser- 
geant ;  Marshal  Bourmont  gave  him  an  appointment  as 
sub-lieutenant  in  a  line  regiment.  The  major's  son 
behaved  like  a  man  who  wished  to  die.  Death  has, 
however,  respected  Jacques  Brigaut  up  to  the  present 
time ;  although  he  has  distinguished  himself  in  all  the 
recent  expeditions  he  has  never  yet  been  wounded. 
He  is  now  major  in  a  regiment  of  infantry.  No  offi- 
cer is  more  taciturn  or  more  trustworthy.  Outside  of 
his  duty  he  is  almost  mute ;  he  walks  alone  and  lives 
mechanically.  Every  one  divines  and  respects  a  hidden 
sorrow.  He  possesses  foily-six  thousand  francs,  which 
old  Madame  Lorrain,  who  died  in  Paris  in  1829,  be- 
queathed to  him. 

At  the  elections  of  1830  Vinet  was  made  a  deputy. 
The  services  he  rendered  the  new  government  have 
now  earned  him  the  position  of  procureur-general. 
His  influence  is  such  that  he  will  always  remain  a 
deputy.  Rogron  is  receiver-general  in  the  same  town 
where  Vinet  fulfils  his  legal  functions ;  and  by  one  of 
those  curious  tricks  of  chance  which  do  so  often  occur, 
Monsieur  Tiphaine  is  president  of  the  Royal  court  in  the 
same  town,  —  for  the  worthy  man  gave  in  his  adhesion 
to  the  dynasty  of  July  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 
The  ex-beautiful  Madame  Tiphaine  lives  on  excellent 


Pierrette.  223 

terms  with  the  beautiful  Madame  Rogron.  Vinet  is 
hand  in  glove  with  Madame  Tiphaine. 

As  to  the  imbecile  Rogron,  he  makes  such  remarks 
as,  "Louis-Philippe  will  never  be  really  king  till  he 
is  able  to  make  nobles." 

The  speech  is  evident^  not  his  own.  His  health  is 
failing,  which  allows  Madame  Rogron  to  hope  she  may 
soon  marry  the  General  Marquis  de  Montriveau,  peer 
of  France,  who  commands  the  department,  and  is 
paying  her  attentions.  Vinet  is  in  his  element,  seek- 
ing victims ;  he  never  believes  in  the  innocence  of  an 
accused  person.  This  thoroughbred  prosecutor  is  held 
to  be  one  of  the  most  amiable  men  on  the  circuit ;  and 
he  is  no  less  liked  in  Paris  and  in  the  Chamber ;  at 
court  he  is  a  charming  courtier. 

According  to  a  certain  promise  made  b}'  Vinet, 
General  Baron  Gouraud,  that  noble  relic  of  our  glo- 
rious armies,  married  a  Mademoiselle  Matifat,  twenty- 
five  years  old,  daughter  of  a  druggist  in  the  rue  des 
Lombards,  whose  dowry  was  a  hundred  thousand 
francs.  He  commands  (as  Vinet  prophesied)  a  de- 
partment in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris.  He  was 
named  peer  of  France  for  his  conduct  in  the  riots 
which  occurred  during  the  ministry  of  Casimir  Perier. 
Baron  Gouraud  was  one  of  the  generals  who  took  the 
church  of  Saint-Merry,  delighted  to  rap  those  rascally 
civilians   who  had    vexed    him    fgj^vears    over    the 


UNIVBRSITY 


224  Pierrette. 

knuckles ;  for  which  service  he  was  rewarded  with  the 
grand  cordon  of  the  Legion  of  honor. 

None  of  the  personages  connected  with  Pierrette's 
death  ever  felt  the  slightest  remorse  about  it.  Mon- 
sieur Desfondrilles  is  still  archaeological,  but,  in  order 
to  compass  his  own  election,  the  procureur  general 
Vinet  took  pains  to  have  him  appointed  president  of 
the  Provins  court.  Sylvie  has  a  little  circle,  and 
manages  her  brother's  property;  she  lends  her  own 
money  at  high  interest,  and  does  not  spend  more  than 
twelve  hundred  francs  a  year. 

From  time  to  time,  when  some  former  son  or 
daughter  of  Provins  returns  from  Paris  to  settle  down, 
you  may  hear  them  ask,  as  they  leave  Mademoiselle 
Rogron's  house,  "  Wasn't  there  a  painful  story  against 
the  Rogrons,  —  something  about  a  ward  ?  " 

"Mere  prejudice,"  replies  Monsieur  Desfondrilles. 
4 'Certain  persons  tried  to  make  us  believe  falsehoods. 
Out  of  kindness  of  heart  the  Rogrons  took  in  a  girl 
named  Pierrette,  quite  pretty  but  with  no  money.  Just 
as  she  was  growing  up  she  had  an  intrigue  with  a  young 
man,  and  stood  at  her  window  barefooted  talking  to 
him.  The  lovers  passed  notes  to  each  other  by  a 
string.  She  took  cold  in  this  way  and  died,  having 
no  constitution.  The  Rogrons  behaved  admirably. 
They  made  no  claim  on  certain  property  which  was  to 
come  to  her,  —  they  gave  it  all  up  to  the  grandmother. 


Pierrette.  225 

The  moral  of  it  was,  my  good  friend,  that  the  devil 
punishes  those  who  try  to  benefit  others." 

"Ah!  that  is  quite  another  story  from  the  one  old 
Frappier  told  me." 

"  Frappier  consults  his  wine-cellar  more  than  he  does 
his  memorjV  remarked  another  of  Mademoiselle  Ro- 
gron's  visitors. 

"  But  that  old  priest,  Monsieur  Habert  says  —  " 

"  Oh,  he  !  don't  you  know  why  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  wanted  to  marry  his  sister  to  Monsieur  Ro- 
gron,  the  receiver-general." 

Two  men  think  of  Pierrette  daily :  Doctor  Martener 
and  Major  Brigaut ;  they  alone  know  the  hideous  truth. 

To  give  that  truth  its  true  proportions  we  must 
transport  the  scene  to  the  Rome  of  the  middle  ages, 
where  a  sublime  young  girl,  Beatrice  Cenci,  was 
brought  to  the  scaffold  by  motives  and  intrigues  that 
were  almost  identical  with  those  which  laid  our  Pier- 
rette in  her  grave.  Beatrice  Cenci  had  but  one  de- 
fender, —  an  artist,  a  painter.  In  our  day  history,  and 
living  men,  on  the  faith  of  Guido  Reni's  portrait,  con- 
demn the  Pope,  and  know  that  Beatrice  was  a  most 
tender  victim  of  infamous  passions  and  base  feuds. 

We  must  all  agree  that  legality  would  be  a  fine  thing 
for  social  scoundrelism  if  there  were  no  god. 

15 


THE  VICAR  OF  TOURS. 


DEDICATION. 

To  David,  Sculptor: 

The  permanence  of  the  work  on  which  I  inscribe 
your  name  —  twice  made  illustrious  in  this  century  —  is 
very  problematical ;  whereas  you  have  graven  mine  in 
bronze  which  survives  nations  —  if  only  in  their  coins. 
The  day  may  come  when  numismatists,  discovering 
amid  the  ashes  of  Paris  existences  perpetuated  by  you, 
will  wonder  at  the  number  of  heads  crowned  in  your 
atelier  and  endeavor  to  find  in  them  new  dynasties. 

To  you,  this  divine  privilege  ;  to  me,  gratitude. 

De  Balzac. 


THE    VICAE    OF    TOURS. 


i. 


Early  in  the  autumn  of  1826  the  Abbe  Birotteau, 
the  principal  personage  of  this  history,  was  overtaken 
by  a  shower  of  rain  as  he  returned  home  from  a  friend's 
house,  where  he  had  been  passing  the  evening.  He 
therefore  crossed,  as  quickly  as  his  corpulence  would 
allow,  the  deserted  little  square  called  "  The  Cloister," 
which  lies  directly  behind  the  chancel  of  the  cathedral 
of  Saint-Gatien  at  Tours. 

The  Abbe"  Birotteau,  a  short  little  man,  apoplectic  in 
constitution  and  about  sixty  years  old,  had  already 
gone  through  several  attacks  of  gout.  Now,  among 
the  petty  miseries  of  human  life  the  one  for  which  the 
worthy  priest  felt  the  deepest  aversion  was  the  sudden 
sprinkling  of  his  shoes,  adorned  with  silver  buckles,  and 
the  wetting  of  their  soles.  Notwithstanding  the  woollen 
socks  in  which  at  all  seasons  he  enveloped  his  feet 
with  the  extreme  care  that  ecclesiastics  take  of  them- 
selves, he  was  apt  at  such  times  to  get  them  a  little 


230  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

damp,  and  the  next  day  gout  was  sure  to  give  him 
certain  infallible  proofs  of  constancy.  Nevertheless, 
as  the  pavement  of  the  Cloister  was  likely  to  be  dry, 
and  as  the  abbe  had  won  three  francs  ten  sous  in 
his  rubber  with  Madame  de  Listomere,  he  bore  the 
rain  resignedly  from  the  middle  of  the  place  de 
l'Archevech6,  where  it  began  to  come  down  in  earnest. 
Besides,  he  was  fondling  his  chimera,  —  a  desire  already 
twelve  years  old,  the  desire  of  a  priest,  a  desire  formed 
anew  every  evening  and  now,  apparently,  very  near 
accomplishment ;  in  short,  he  had  wrapped  himself  so 
completely  in  the  fur  cape  of  a  canon  that  he  did  not 
feel  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.  During  the  even- 
ing several  of  the  company  who  habitually  gathered  at 
Madame  de  Listomere's  had  almost  guaranteed  to  him 
his  nomination  to  the  office  of  canon  (then  vacant  in 
the  metropolitan  Chapter  of  Saint-Gatien),  assuring  him 
that  no  one  deserved  such  promotion  more  than  he, 
whose  rights,  long  overlooked,  were  indisputable. 

If  he  had  lost  the  rubber,  if  he  had  heard  that  his 
rival,  the  Abbe  Poirel,  was  named  canon,  the  worthy 
man  would  have  thought  the  rain  extremely  chilling ; 
he  might  even  have  thought  ill  of  life.  But  it  so 
chanced  that  he  was  in  one  of  those  rare  moments 
when  happy  inward  sensations  make  a  man  oblivious  of 
discomfort.  In  hastening  his  steps  he  obeyed  a  mere 
mechanical  impulse,  and  truth  (so  essential  in  a  history 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  231 

of  manners  and  morals)  compels  us  to  say  that  he  was 
thinking  of  neither  rain  nor  gout. 

In  former  days  there  was  in  the  Cloister,  on  the 
side  towards  the  Grand'Rue,  a  cluster  of  houses  form- 
ing a  Close  and  belonging  to  the  cathedral,  where 
several  of  the  dignitaries  of  the  Chapter  lived.  After 
the  confiscation  of  ecclesiastical  property  the  town  had 
turned  the  passage  through  this  close  into  a  narrow 
street,  called  the  rue  de  la  Psalette,  by  which  pedes- 
trians passed  from  the  Cloister  to  the  Grand'Rue. 
The  name  of  this  street,  proves  clearly  enough  that  the 
precentor  and  his  pupils  and  those  connected  with  the 
choir  formerly  lived  there.  The  other  side,  the  left 
side,  of  the  street  is  occupied  by  a  single  house,  the 
walls  of  which  are  overshadowed  by  the  buttresses  of 
Saint-Gatien,  which  have  their  base  in  the  narrow  little 
garden  of  the  house,  leaving  it  doubtful  whether  the 
cathedral  was  built  before  or  after  this  venerable  dwell- 
ing. An  archaeologist  examining  the  arabesques,  the 
shape  of  the  windows,  the  arch  of  the  door,  the  whole  ex- 
terior of  the  house,  now  mellow  with  age,  would  see  at 
once  that  it  had  always  been  a  part  of  the  magnificent 
edifice  with  which  it  is  blended. 

An  antiquary  (had  there  been  one  in  Tours,  —  one  of 
the  least  literary  towns  in  all  France)  would  even 
discover,  where  the  narrow  street  enters  the  Cloister, 
several  vestiges  of  an  old  arcade,  which  formerly  made 


232  TJie   Vicar  of  Tours. 

a  portico  to  these  ecclesiastical  dwellings,  and  was,  no 
doubt,  harmonious  in  style  with  the  general  character 
of  the  architecture. 

The  house  of  which  we  speak,  standing  on  the  north 
side  of  the  cathedral,  was  always  in  the  shadow  thrown 
by  that  vast  edifice,  on  which  time  had  cast  its  dingy 
mantle,  marked  its  furrows,  and  shed  its  chill  humidit}7, 
its  lichen,  mosses,  and  rank  herbs.  The  darkened 
dwelling  was  wrapped  in  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
bells,  by  the  chanting  of  the  offices  heard  through  the 
windows  of  the  church,  by  the  call  of  the  jackdaws 
nesting  in  the  belfries.  The  region  is  a  desert  of 
stones,  a  solitude  with  a  character  of  its  own,  an  arid 
spot,  which  could  only  be  inhabited  by  beings  who  had 
either  attained  to  absolute  nullity,  or  were  gifted  with 
some  abnormal  strength  of  soul.  The  house  in  ques- 
tion had  always  been  occupied  by  abbes,  and  it  be- 
longed to  an  old  maid  named  Mademoiselle  Gamard. 
Though  the  property  bad  been  bought  from  the  na- 
tional domain  under  the  Reign  of  Terror  by  the  father 
of  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  no  one  objected  under  the 
Restoration  to  the  old  maid's  retaining  it,  because  she 
took  priests  to  board  and  was  very  devout ;  it  may  be 
that  religious  persons  gave  her  credit  for  the  intention 
of  leaving  the  property  to  the  Chapter. 

The  Abbe  Birotteau  was  making  his  way  to  this 
house,  where  he  had  lived  for  the  last  two  years.     His 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  233 

apartment  had  been  (as  was  now  the  canonry)  an  ob- 
ject of  envy  and  his  hoc  erat  in  votis  for  a  dozen  }*ears. 
To  be  Mademoiselle's  Gamard's  boarder  and  to  become 
a  canon  were  the  two  great  desires  of  his  life ;  in  fact 
they  do  present  accurately  the  ambition  of  a  priest, 
who,  considering  himself  on  the  highroad  to  eternity, 
can  wish  for  nothing  in  this  world  but  good  lodging, 
good  food,  clean  garments,  shoes  with  silver  buckles, 
a  sufficiency  of  things  for  the  needs  of  the  animal,  and 
a  canonry  to  satisfy  self-love,  that  inexpressible  senti- 
ment which  follows  us,  they  say,  into  the  presence  of 
God,  —  for  there  are  grades  among  the  saints.  But 
the  covetous  desire  for  the  apartment  which  the  Abbe 
Birotteau  was  now  inhabiting  (a  very  harmless  desire 
in  the  ej^es  of  worldly  people)  had  been  to  the  abbe* 
nothing  less  than  a  passion,  a  passion  full  of  obstacles, 
and,  like  more  guilty  passions,  full  of  hopes,  pleasures, 
and  remorse. 

The  interior  arrangements  of  the  housekdid  not  allow 
Mademoiselle  Gamard  to  take  more  than  two  lodgers. 
Now,  for  about  twelve  years  before  the  day  when 
Birotteau  went  to  live  with  her  she  had  undertaken  to 
keep  in  health  and  contentment  two  priests ;  namely, 
Monsieur  l'Abbe  Troubert  and  Monsieur  l'Abbe  Chape- 
loud.  The  Abbe  Troubert  still  lived.  The  Abbe 
Chapeloud  was  dead ;  and  Birotteau  had  stepped  into 
his  place. 


234  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

The  late  Abbe"  Chapeloud,  in  life  a  canon  of  Saint- 
Gatien,  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Abbe 
Birotteau.  Every  time  that  the  latter  paid  a  visit  to 
the  canon  he  had  constant^  admired  the  apartment, 
the  furniture  and  the  library.  Out  of  this  admira- 
tion grew  the  desire  to  possess  these  beautiful  things. 
It  had  been  impossible  for  the  Abbe  Birotteau  to  stifle 
this  desire;  though  it  often  made  him  suffer  terribly 
when  he  reflected  that  the  death  of  his  best  friend 
could  alone  satisfy  his  secret  covetousness,  which  in- 
creased as  time  went  on.  The  Abbe  Chapeloud  and 
his  friend  Birotteau  were  not  rich.  Both  were  sons  of 
peasants  ;  and  their  slender  savings  had  been  spent  in 
the  mere  costs  of  living  during  the  disastrous  years  of 
the  Revolution.  When  Napoleon  restored  the  Catholic 
worship  the  Abbe  Chapeloud  was  appointed  canon  of 
the  cathedral  and  Birotteau  was  made  vicar  of  it. 
Chapeloud  then  went  to  board  with  Mademoiselle 
Gamard.  When  Birotteau  first  came  to  visit  his 
friend,  he  thought  the  arrangement  of  the  rooms  ex- 
cellent, but  he  noticed  nothing  more.  The  outset  of 
this  concupiscence  of  chattels  was  very  like  that  of  a 
true  passion,  which  often  begins,  in  a  young  man,  with 
cold  admiration  for  a  woman  whom  he  ends  in  loving 
forever. 

The  apartment,  reached  by  a  stone  staircase,  was  on 
the  side  of  the  house  that  faced   south.    The  Abbe* 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  235 

Troubert  occupied  the  ground-floor,  and  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  the  first  floor  of  the  main  building,  looking 
on  the  street.  When  Chapeloud  took  possession  of 
his  rooms  they  were  bare  of  furniture,  and  the  ceilings 
were  blackened  with  smoke.  The  stone  mantelpieces, 
which  were  very  badly  cut,  had  never  been  painted. 
At  first,  the  only  furniture  the  poor  canon  could  put  in 
was  a  bed,  a  table,  a  few  chairs,  and  the  books  he  pos- 
sessed. The  apartment  was  like  a  beautiful  woman 
in  rags.  But  two  or  three  years  later,  an  old  lady 
having  left  the  Abbe  Chapeloud  two  thousand  francs, 
he  spent  that  sum  on  the  purchase  of  an  oak  book- 
case, the  relic  of  a  chateau  pulled  down  by  the 
Bande  Noire,  the  carving  of  which  deserved  the  ad- 
miration of  all  artists.  The  abbe  made  the  purchase 
less  because  it  was  very  cheap  than  because  the  di- 
mensions of  the  bookcase  exactly  fitted  the  space  it 
was  to  fill  in  his  gallery.  His  savings  enabled  him  to 
renovate  the  whole  galley,  which  up  to  this  time  had 
been  neglected  and  shabby.  The  floor  was  carefuhy 
waxed,  the  ceiling  whitened,  the  wood-work  painted  to 
resemble  the  grain  and  knots  of  oak.  A  long  table  in 
ebony  and  two  cabinets  by  Boulle  completed  the 
decoration,  and  gave  to  this  gallery  a  certain  air  that 
was  full  of  character.  In  the  course  of  two  years  the 
liberality  of  devout  persons,  and  legacies,  though  small 
ones,  from  pious  penitents,  filled  the   shelves   of  the 


236  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

bookcase,  till  then  half  empty.  Moreover,  Chapeloud's 
uncle,  an  old  Oratorian,  left  him  his  collection  in  folio 
of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  and  several  other  impor- 
tant works  that  were  precious  to  a  priest. 

Birotteau,  more  and  more  surprised  by  the  successive 
improvements  of  the  gallery,  once  so  bare,  came  by 
degrees  to  a  condition  of  involuntary  envy.  He  wished 
he  could  possess  that  apartment,  so  thoroughly  in  keep- 
ing with  the  gravity  of  ecclesiastical  life.  The  passion 
increased  from  day  to  day.  Working,  sometimes  for 
days  together,  in  this  retreat,  the  vicar  could  appreciate 
the  silence  and  the  peace  that  reigned  there.  During 
the  following  year  the  Abbe"  Chapeloud  turned  a  small 
room  into  an  oratory,  which  his  pious  friends  took 
pleasure  in  beautifying.  Still  later,  another  lady  gave 
the  canon  a  set  of  furniture  for  his  bedroom,  the  cover- 
ing of  which  she  had  embroidered  under  the  eyes  of  the 
worthy  man  without  his  ever  suspecting  its  destination. 
The  bedroom  then  had  the  same  effect  upon  the  vicar 
that  the  gallery  had  long  had  ;  it  dazzled  him.  Lastly, 
about  three  years  before  the  Abbe  Chapeloud's  death, 
he  completed  the  comfort  of  his  apartment  by  decorat- 
ing the  salon.  Though  the  furniture  was  plainly 
covered  in  red  Utrecht  velvet,  it  fascinated  Birotteau. 
From  the  day  when  the  canon's  friend  first  laid  eyes  on 
the  red  damask  curtains,  the  mahogany  furniture,  the 
Aubusson  carpet  which  adorned  the  vast   room,  then 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  237 

lately  painted,  his  envy^  of  Chapeloud's  apartment 
became  a  monomania  hidden  within  his  breast.  To 
live  there,  to  sleep  in  that  bed  with  the  silk  curtains 
where  the  canon  slept,  to  have  all  Chapeloud's  comforts 
about  him,  would  be,  Birotteau  felt,  complete  happi- 
ness ;  he  saw  nothing  beyond  it.  All  the  envy,  all 
the  ambition  which  the  things  of  this  world  give  birth 
to  in  the  hearts  of  other  men  concentrated  themselves 
for  Birotteau  in  the  deep  and  secret  longing  he  felt  for 
an  apartment  like  that  which  the  Abbe'  Chapeloud  had 
created  for  himself.  When  his  friend  fell  ill  he  went  to 
him  out  of  true  affection ;  but  all  the  same,  when  he 
first  heard  of  his  illness,  and  when  he  sat  by  his  bed  to 
keep  him  compan}%  there  arose  in  the  depths  of  his 
consciousness,  in  spite  of  himself,  a  crowd  of  thoughts 
the  simple  formula  of  which  was  always,  "  If  Chapeloud 
dies  I  can  have  this  apartment."  And  j*et  —  Birotteau 
having  an  excellent  heart,  contracted  ideas,  and  a  lim- 
ited mind  —  he  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  think  of  means 
by  which  to  make  his  friend  bequeath  to  him  the  library 
and  the  furniture. 

The  Abbe  Chapeloud,  an  amiable,  indulgent  egoist, 
fathomed  his  friend's  desires  —  not  a  difficult  thing  fo 
do  —  and  forgave  them  ;  which  may  seem  less  easy 
to  a  priest ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  vicar, 
whose  friendship  was  faithful,  did  not  fail  to  take  a 
daily  walk  with  his  friend  along  their  usual  path  in 


238  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

the  Mail  de  Tours,  never  once  depriving  him  of  an 
instant  of  the  time  devoted  for  over  twenty  years  to 
that  exercise.  Birotteau,  who  regarded  his  secret 
wishes  as  crimes,  would  have  been  capable,  out  of  con- 
trition, of  the  utmost  devotion  to  his  friend.  The 
latter  paid  his  debt  of  gratitude  for  a  friendship  so  in- 
genuously sincere  by  saying,  a  few  days  before  his 
death,  as  the  vicar  sat  by  him  reading  the  "  Quotidi- 
enne  "  aloud:  "  This  time  you  will  certainly  get  the 
apartment.     I  feel  it  is  all  over  with  me  now." 

Accordingly,  it  was  found  that  the  Abl>e  Chapeloud 
had  left  his  library  and  all  his  furniture  to  his  friend 
Birotteau.  The  possession  of  these  things,  so  keenly 
desired,  and  the  prospect  of  being  taken  to  board  by 
Mademoiselle  Gamard,  certainly  did  allay  the  grief 
which  Birotteau  felt  at  the  death  of  his  friend  the 
canon.  He  might  not  have  been  willing  to  resuscitate 
him  ;  but  he  mourned  him.  For  several  days  he  was  like 
Gargantua,  who,  when  his  wife  died  in  giving  birth  to 
Pantagruel,  did  not  know  whether  to  rejoice  at  the  birth 
of  a  son  or  grieve  at  having  buried  his  good  Babette, 
and  therefore  cheated  himself  by  rejoicing  at  the  death 
of  his  wife  and  deploring  the  advent  of  Pantagruel. 

The  Abbe  Birotteau  spent  the  first  days  of  his 
mourning  in  verifying  the  books  in  his  library,  in 
making  use  of  his  furniture,  in  examining  the  whole  of 
his  inheritance,  saying  in  a  tone  which,  unfortunately, 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  239 

was  not  noted  at  the  time,  u  Poor  Chapeloud  !  "  His 
joy  and  his  grief  so  completely  absorbed  him  that  he 
felt  no  pain  when  he  found  that  the  office  of  canon, 
in  which  the  late  Chapeloud  had  hoped  his  friend 
Birotteau  might  succeed  him,  was  given  to  another. 
Mademoiselle  Gamard  having  cheerfully  agreed  to 
take  the  vicar  to  board,  the  latter  was  thenceforth  a 
participator  in  all  those  felicities  of  material  comfort  of 
which  the  deceased  canon  had  been  wont  to  boast. 

Incalculable  they  were !  According  to  the  Abbe 
Chapeloud  none  of  the  priests  who  inhabited  the  city 
of  Tours,  not  even  the  archbishop,  had  ever  been  the 
object  of  such  minute  and  delicate  attentions  as  those 
bestowed  by  Mademoiselle  Gamard  on  her  two  lodgers. 
The  first  words  the  canon  said  to  his  friend  when  they 
met  for  their  walk  on  the  Mail  referred  usually  to  the 
succulent  dinner  he  had  just  eaten ;  and  it  was  a  very 
rare  thing  if  during  the  seven  walks  of  each  week 
he  did  not  say  at  least  fourteen  times,  "  That  ex- 
cellent spinster  certainly  has  a  vocation  for  serving 
ecclesiastics." 

"Just  think,"  the  canon  would  say  to  Birotteau, 
"  that  for  twelve  consecutive  years  nothing  has  ever 
been  amiss,  — linen  in  perfect  order,  bands,  albs,  sur- 
plices ;  I  find  everything  in  its  place,  always  in  suffi- 
cient quantity,  and  smelling  of  orris-root.  My  furniture 
is  rubbed  and  kept  so  bright  that  I  don't  know  when 


240  The  Vicar  of  Tours. 

I  have  seen  any  dust  —  did  you  ever  see  a  speck  of  it 
in  my  rooms?  Then  the  firewood  is  so  well  selected. 
The  least  little  things  are  excellent.  In  fact,  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  keeps  an  incessant  watch  over  my 
wants.  I  can't  remember  having  rung  twice  for  any- 
thing —  no  matter  what  —  in  ten  }Tears.  That 's  what 
I  call  living !  I  never  have  to  look  for  a  single  thing, 
not  even  my  slippers.  Always  a  good  fire,  always  a 
good  dinner.  Once  the  bellows  annoyed  me,  the 
nozzle  was  choked  up ;  but  I  only  mentioned  it  once, 
and  the  next  day  Mademoiselle  gave  me  a  very  pretty 
pair,  also  those  nice  little  tongs  you  see  me  mend  the 
fire  with." 

For  all  answer  Birotteau  would  say,  "  Smelling  of 
orris-root !  "  That  smelling  of  orris-root  always  af- 
fected him.  The  canon's  remarks  revealed  ideal  joys 
to  the  poor  vicar,  whose  bands  and  albs  were  the 
plague  of  his  life,  for  he  was  totally  devoid  of  method 
and  often  forgot  to  order  his  dinner.  Therefore,  if  he 
saw  Mademoiselle  Gamard  at  Saint-Gatien  while  say- 
ing mass  or  taking  round  the  plate,  he  never  failed  to 
give  her  a  kindly  and  benevolent  look,  —  such  a  look  as 
Saint  Teresa  might  have  cast  to  heaven. 

Though  the  comforts  which  all  creatures  desire,  and 
for  which  he  had  so  often  longed,  thus  fell  to  his  share, 
the  Abbe*  Birotteau,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  found  it 
difficult,  even  for  a  priest,  to  live  without  something 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  241 

to  hanker  for.  Consequently,  for  the  last  eighteen 
months  he  had  replaced  his  two  satisfied  passions  by 
an  ardent  longing  for  a  canonry.  The  title  of  Canon 
had  become  to  him  very  much  what  a  peerage  is  to 
a  plebeian  minister.  The  prospect  of  an  appointment, 
hopes  of  which  had  just  been  held  out  to  him  at  Ma- 
dame de  Listomere's,  so  completely  turned  his  head 
that  he  did  not  observe  until  he  reached  his  own  door 
that  he  had  left  his  umbrella  behind  him.  Perhaps, 
even  then,  if  the  rain  were  not  falling  in  torrents  he 
might  not  have  missed  it,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  the 
pleasure  of  going  over  and  over  in  his  mind  what  had 
been  said  to  him  on  the  subject  of  his  promotion  b}r 
the  company  at  Madame  de  Listomere's,  — an  old  lady 
with  whom  he  spent  eveiy  Wednesdaj"  evening. 

The  vicar  rang  loudly,  as  if  to  let  the  servant  know 
she  was  not  to  keep  him  waiting.  Then  he  stood  close 
to  the  door  to  avoid,  if  he  could,  getting  showered ; 
but  the  drip  from  the  roof  fell  precisely  on  the  toes  of 
his  shoes,  and  the  wind  blew  gusts  of  rain  into  his 
face  that  were  much  like  a  shower-bath.  Having  cal- 
culated the  time  necessary  for  the  woman  to  leave  the 
kitchen  and  pull  the  string  of  the  outer  door,  he  rang 
again,  this  time  in  a  manner  that  resulted  in  a  very 
significant  peal  of  the  bell. 

"  They  can't  be  out,"  he  said  to  himself,  not  hearing 
any  movement  on  the  premises. 
10 


242  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

Again  he  rang,  producing  a  sound  that  echoed 
sharpty  through  the  house  and  was  taken  up  and  re- 
peated by  all  the  echoes  of  the  cathedral,  so  that  no 
one  could  avoid  waking  up  at  the  remonstrating  racket. 
Accordingly,  in  a  few  moments,  he  heard,  not  without 
some  pleasure  in  his  wrath,  the  wooden  shoes  of  the 
servant-woman  clacking  along  the  paved  path  which 
led  to  the  outer  door.  But  even  then  the  discomforts 
of  the  gouty  old  gentleman  were  not  so  quickly  over 
as  he  hoped.  Instead  of  pulling  the  string,  Marianne 
was  obliged  to  turn  the  lock  of  the  door  with  its  heavy 
key,  and  pull  back  all  the  bolts. 

"Why  did  you  let  me  ring  three  times  in  such 
weather?"  said  the  vicar. 

"But,  monsieur,  don't  you  see  the  door  was  locked? 
We  have  all  been  in  bed  ever  so  long;  it  struck  a 
quarter  to  eleven  some  time  ago.  Mademoiselle  must 
have  thought  you  were  in." 

"  You  saw  me  go  out,  yourself.  Besides,  Mademoi- 
selle knows  very  well  I  always  go  to  Madame  de  Lis- 
tomere's  on  Wednesday  evening." 

"  I  only  did  as  Mademoiselle  told  me,  monsieur." 

These  words  struck  the  vicar  a  blow,  which  he  felt 
the  more  because  his  late  revery  had  made  him  com- 
pletely happy.  He  said  nothing  and  followed  Mari- 
anne towards  the  kitchen  to  get  his  candlestick,  which 
he  supposed  had  been  left  there  as  usual.    But  instead 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  243 

of  entering  the  kitchen  Marianne  went  on  to  his  own 
apartments,  and  there  the  vicar  beheld  his  candlestick  on 
a  table  close  to  the  door  of  the  red  salon,  in  a  sort  of 
antechamber  formed  by  the  landing  of  the  staircase, 
which  the  late  canon  had  inclosed  with  a  glass  parti- 
tion. Mute  with  amazement,  he  entered  his  bedroom 
hastily,  found  no  fire,  and  called  to  Marianne,  who  had 
not  had  time  to  get  downstairs. 

11  You  have  not  lighted  the  fire !  "  he  said. 

"Beg  pardon,  Monsieur  l'abbe,  I  did,"  she  said; 
"  it  must  have  gone  out."  * 

Birotteau  looked  again  at  the  hearth,  and  felt  con- 
vinced that  the  fire  had  been  out  since  morning. 

"  I  must  dry  my  feet,"  he  said.     "  Make  the  fire." 

Marianne  obeyed  with  the  haste  of  a  person  who 
wants  to  get  back  to  her  night's  rest.  While  looking 
about  him  for  his  slippers,  which  were  not  in  the  middle 
of  his  bedside  carpet  as  usual,  the  abbe  took  mental 
notes  of  the  state  of  Marianne's  dress,  which  convinced 
him  that  she  had  not  got  out  of  bed  to  open  the  door 
as  she  said  she  had.  He  then  recollected  that  for  the 
last  two  weeks  he  had  been  deprived  of  various  little 
attentions  which  for  eighteen  months  had  made  life 
sweet  to  him.  Now,  as  the  nature  of  narrow  minds 
induces  them  to  study  trifles,  Birotteau  plunged 
suddenly  into  deep  meditation  on  these  four  circum- 
stances, imperceptible  in  their  meaning  to  others,  but 


244  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

to  him  indicative  of  four  catastrophes.  The  total  loss 
of  his  happiness  was  evidently  foreshadowed  in  the 
neglect  to  place  his  slippers,  in  Marianne's  falsehood 
about  the  fire,  in  the  unusual  removal  of  his  candle- 
stick to  the  table  of  the  antechamber,  and  in  the 
evident  intention  to  keep  him  waiting  in  the  rain. 

When  the  fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
lamp  was  lighted,  and  Marianne  had  departed  without 
saying,  as  usual,  "  Does  Monsieur  want  anything 
more?  "  the  Abbe  Birotteau  let  himself  fall  gently  into 
the  wide  and  handsome  easy-chair  of  his  late  friend ; 
but  there  was  something  mournful  in  the  movement 
with  which  he  dropped  upon  it.  The  good  soul  was 
crushed  by  a  presentiment  of  coming  calamity.  His 
eyes  roved  successively  to  the  handsome  tall  clock, 
the  bureau,  curtains,  chairs,  carpets,  to  the  stately  bed, 
the  basin  of  holy-water,  the  crucifix,  to  a  Virgin  by 
Valentin,  a  Christ  by  Lebrun,  —  in  short,  to  all  the 
accessories  of  this  cherished  room,  while  his  face  ex- 
pressed the  anguish  of  the  tenderest  farewell  that  a 
lover  ever  took  of  his  first  mistress,  or  an  old  man  of 
his  lately  planted  trees.  The  vicar  had  just  perceived, 
somewhat  late  it  is  true,  the  signs  of  a  dumb  persecu- 
tion instituted  against  him  for  the  last  three  months 
by  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  whose  evil  intentions  would 
doubtless  have  been  fathomed  much  sooner  by  a  more 
intelligent  man.     Old  maids  have  a  special  talent  for 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  245 

accentuating  the  words  and  actions  which  their  dis- 
likes suggest  to  them.  They  scratch  like  cats.  They 
not  only  wound  but  they  take  pleasure  in  wounding, 
and  in  making  their  victim  see  that  he  is  wounded. 
A  man  of  the  world  would  never  have  allowed  himself 
to  be  scratched  twice  ;  the  good  abbe,  on  the  contrary, 
had  taken  several  blows  from  those  sharp  claws  before 
he  could  be  brought  to  believe  in  any  evil  intention. 

But  when  he  did  perceive  it,  he  set  to  work,  with  the 
inquisitorial  sagacity  which  priests  acquire  by  directing 
consciences  and  burrowing  into  the  nothings  of  the 
confessional,  to  establish,  as  though  it  were  a  matter 
of  religious  controversy,  the  following  proposition : 
"  Admitting  that  Mademoiselle  Gamard  did  not  remem- 
ber it  was  Madame  de  Listo mere's  evening,  and  that 
Marianne  did  think  I  was  at  home,  and  did  really  forget 
to  make  my  fire,  it  is  impossible,  inasmuch  as  I  myself 
took  down  my  candlestick  this  morning,  that  Made- 
moiselle Gamard,  seeing  it  in  her  salon,  could  have 
supposed  I  had  gone  to  bed.  Ergo,  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  intended  that  I  should  stand  out  in  the  rain, 
and,  by  carrying  my  candlestick  upstairs,  she  meant 
to  make  me  understand  it.  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 
he  said  aloud,  roused  by  the  gravity  of  these  circum- 
stances, and  rising  as  he  spoke  to  take  off  his  damp 
clothes,  get  into  his  dressing-gown,  and  do  up  his 
head  for  the  night.    Then  he  returned  from  the  bed  to 


246  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

the  fireplace,  gesticulating,  and  launching  forth  in 
various  tones  the  following  sentences,  all  of  which 
ended  in  a  high  falsetto  key,  like  notes  of  interjection  : 

44  What  the  deuce  have  I  done  to  her?  Why  is  she 
angry  with  me  ?  Marianne  did  not  forget  my  fire ! 
Mademoiselle  told  her  not  to  light  it!  I  must  be  a 
child  if  I  can't  see,  from  the  tone  and  manner  she  has 
been  taking  to  me,  that  I've  done  something  to  dis- 
please her.  Nothing  like  it  ever  happened  to  Chape- 
loud  !  I  can't  live  in  the  midst  of  such  torments  as  — 
At  my  age  —  " 

He  went  to  bed  hoping  that  the  morrow  might  en- 
lighten him  on  the  causes  of  the  dislike  which 
threatened  to  destroy  forever  the  happiness  he  had 
now  enjoyed  two  years  after  wishing  for  it  so  long. 
Alas!  the  secret  reasons  for  the  inimical  feelings 
Mademoiselle  Gamard  bore  to  the  luckless  abbe  were 
fated  to  remain  eternally  unknown  to  him,  —  not  that 
they  were  difficult  to  fathom,  but  simply  because  he 
lacked  the  good  faith  and  candor  by  which  great  souls 
and  scoundrels  look  within  and  judge  themselves.  A 
man  of  genius  or  a  trickster  says  to  himself,  "  I  did 
wrong."  Self-interest  and  native  talent  are  the  only 
infallible  and  lucid  guides.  Now  the  Abbe  Birotteau, 
whose  goodness  amounted  to  stupidit}',  whose  knowl- 
edge was  only,  as  it  were,  plastered  on  him  by  dint  of 
study,  who  had  no  experience  whatever  of  the  world 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  247 

and  its  ways,  who  lived  between  the  mass  and  the  con- 
fessional, chiefly  occupied  in  deciding  the  most  trivial 
matters  of  conscience  in  his  capacity  of  confessor  to  all 
the  schools  in  town  and  to  a  few  noble  souls  who  rightly 
appreciated  him, — the  Abbe"  Birotteau  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  great  child,  to  whom  most  of  the  practices 
of  social  life  were  utterly  unknown.  And  yet,  the 
natural  selfishness  of  all  human  beings,  reinforced  by 
the  selfishness  peculiar  to  the  priesthood  and  that  of 
the  narrow  life  of  the  provinces  had  insensibly,  and 
unknown  to  himself,  developed  within  him.  If  an}'  one 
had  felt  enough  interest  in  the  goodman  to  probe  his 
spirit  and  prove  to  him  that  in  the  numerous  petty 
details  of  his  life  and  in  the  minute  duties  of  his  daily 
existence  he  was  essentially  lacking  in  the  self-sacrifice 
he  professed,  he  would  have  punished  and  mortified  him- 
self in  good  faith.  But  those  whom  we  offend  by  such 
unconscious  selfishness  pay  little  heed  to  our  real  inno- 
cence ;  what  they  want  is  vengeance,  and  they  take  it. 
Thus  it  happened  that  Birotteau,  weak  brother  that  he 
was,  was  made  to  undergo  the  decrees  of  that  great 
distributive  Justice  which  goes  about  compelling  the 
world  to  execute  its  judgments,  —  called  by  ninnies 
"  the  misfortunes  of  life." 

There  was  this  difference  between  the  late  Chapelond 
and  the  vicar,  —  one  was  a  shrewd  and  clever  egoist, 
the  other  a  simple-minded  and  clumsy  one.     When  the 


248  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

canon  went  to  board  with  Mademoiselle  Gamard  he  knew 
exactly  how  to  judge  of  his  landlady's  character.  The 
confessional  had  taught  him  to  understand  the  bitter- 
ness that  the  sense  of  being  kept  outside  the  social  pale 
puts  into  the  heart  of  an  old  maid  ;  he  therefore  calcu- 
lated his  own  treatment  of  Mademoiselle  Gamard  very 
wisely.  She  was  then  about  thirty-eight  years  old,  and 
still  retained  a  few  pretensions,  which,  in  well-behaved 
persons  of  her  condition,  change,  rather  later,  into 
strong  personal  self-esteem.  The  canon  saw  plainly 
that  to  live  comfortably  with  his  landlady  he  must  pay 
her  invariably  the  same  attentions  and  be  more  infal- 
lible than  the  pope  himself.  To  compass  this  result,  he 
allowed  no  points  of  contact  between  himself  and  her 
except  those  that  politeness  demanded,  and  those  which 
necessarily  exist  between  two  persons  living  under  the 
same  roof.  Thus,  though  he  and  the  Abbe  Troubert 
took  their  regular  three  meals  a  da}r,  he  avoided  the 
family  breakfast  by  inducing  Mademoiselle  Gamard  to 
send  his  coffee  to  his  own  room.  He  also  avoided  the 
annoyance  of  supper  by  taking  tea  in  the  houses  of 
friends  with  whom  he  spent  his  evenings.  In  this  way 
he  seldom  saw  his  landlady  except  at  dinner ;  but  he 
always  came  down  to  that  meal  a  few  minutes  in  ad- 
vance of  the  hour.  During  this  visit  of  courtesy,  as  it 
may  be  called,  he  talked  to  her,  for  the  twelve  years  he 
had  lived  under  her  roof,   on  nearly  the  same  topics, 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  249 

receiving  from  her  the  same  answers.  How  she  had 
slept,  her  breakfast,  the  trivial  domestic  events,  her 
looks,  her  health,  the  weather,  the  time  the  church 
services  had  lasted,  the  incidents  of  the  mass,  the 
health  of  such  or  such  a  priest,  —  these  were  the  sub- 
jects of  their  daily  conversation.  During  dinner  he 
invariably  paid  her  certain  indirect  compliments ;  the 
fish  had  an  excellent  flavor ;  the  seasoning  of  a  sauce 
was  delicious ;  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  capacities  and 
virtues  as  mistress  of  a  household  were  great.  He  was 
sure  of  flattering  the  old  maid's  vanity  by  praising  the 
skill  with  which  she  made  or  prepared  her  preserves 
and  pickles  and  pates  and  other  gastronomical  inven- 
tions. To  cap  all,  the  wily  canon  never  left  his  land- 
lady's yellow  salon  after  dinner  without  remarking  that 
there  was  no  house  in  Tours  where  he  could  get  such 
good  coffee  as  that  he  had  just  imbibed. 

Thanks  to  this  thorough  understanding  of  Made- 
moiselle Gamard's  character,  and  to  the  science  of 
existence  which  he  had  put  in  practice  for  the  last 
twelve  years,  no  matter  of  discussion  on  the  internal 
arrangements  of  the  household  had  ever  come  up  be- 
tween them.  The  Abbe  Chapeloud  had  taken  note  of 
the  spinster's  angles,  asperities,  and  crabbedness,  and 
had  so  arranged  his  avoidance  of  her  that  he  obtained 
without  the  least  difficulty  all  the  concessions  that 
were  necessary  to  the  happiness  and   tranquillity   of 


250  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

his  life.  The  result  was  that  Mademoiselle  Garaard 
frequently  remarked  to  her  friends  and  acquaintance 
that  the  Abbe  Chapeloud  was  a  ver}'  amiable  man, 
extremely  easy  to  live  with,  and  a  fine  mind. 

As  to  her  other  lodger,  the  Abbe  Troubert,  she  said 
absolutely  nothing  about  him.  Completely  involved 
in  the  round  of  her  life,  like  a  satellite  in  the  orbit  of 
a  planet,  Troubert  was  to  her  a  sort  of  intermediary 
creature  between  the  individuals  of  the  human  species 
and  those  of  the  canine  species ;  he  was  classed  in  her 
heart  next,  but  directly  before,  the  place  intended  for 
friends  but  now  occupied  by  a  fat  and  wheezy  pug 
which  she  tenderly  loved.  She  ruled  Troubert  com- 
pletely, and  the  intermingling  of  their  interests  was 
so  obvious  that  many  persons  of  her  social  sphere  be- 
lieved that  the  Abbe  Troubert  had  designs  on  the  old 
maid's  property,  and  was  binding  her  to  him  unawares 
with  infinite  patience,  and  really  directing  her  while 
he  seemed  to  be  obeying  without  ever  letting  her  per- 
ceive in  him  the  slightest  wish  on  his  part  to  govern 
her. 

When  the  Abbe'  Chapeloud  died,  the  old  maid,  who 
desired  a  lodger  with  quiet  ways,  naturally  thought  of 
the  vicar.  Before  the  canon's  will  was  made  known 
she  had  meditated  offering  his  rooms  to  the  Abbe 
Troubert,  who  was  not  very  comfortable  on  the  ground- 
floor.     But  when  the  Abbe"  Birotteau,  on  receiving  his 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  251 

legacy,  came  to  settle  in  writing  the  terms  of  his  board 
she  saw  he  was  so  in  love  with  the  apartment,  for 
which  he  might  now  admit  his  long  cherished  desires, 
that  she  dared  not  propose  the  exchange,  and  accord- 
ingly sacrificed  her  sentiments  of  friendship  to  the 
demands  of  self-interest.  But  in  order  to  console  her 
beloved  canon,  Mademoiselle  took  up  the  large  white 
Chateau-Renaud  bricks  that  made  the  floors  of  his  apart- 
ment and  replaced  them  by  wooden  floors  laid  in  point 
de  Hongrie.     She  also  rebuilt  a  smoky  chimney. 

For  twelve  years  the  Abbe  Birotteau  had  seen  his 
friend  Chapeloud  in  that  house  without  ever  giving  a 
thought  to  the  motive  of  the  canon's  extreme  circum- 
spection in  his  relations  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard. 
When  he  came  himself  to  live  with  that  saintly  woman 
he  was  in  the  condition  of  a  lover  on  the  point  of  being 
made  happy.  Even  if  he  had  not  been  by  nature  pur- 
blind of  intellect,  his  eyes  were  too  dazzled  by  his  new 
happiness  to  allow  him  to  judge  of  his  landlad}r,  or  to 
reflect  on  the  limits  which  he  ought  to  impose  on  their 
daily  intercourse.  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  seen  from 
afar  and  through  the  prism  of  those  material  felicities 
which  the  vicar  dreamed  of  enjoying  in  her  house, 
seemed  to  him  a  perfect  being,  a  faultless  Christian, 
essentially  charitable,  the  woman  of  the  Gospel,  the 
wise  virgin,  adorned  by  all  those  humble  and  modest 
virtues  which  shed  celestial  fragrance  upon  life. 


252  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

So,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  one  who  attains  an  ob- 
ject long  desired,  with  the  candor  of  a  child,  and  the 
blundering  foolishness  of  an  old  man  utterly  without 
worldly  experience,  he  fell  into  the  life  of  Mademoi- 
selle Gamard  precisely  as  a  fly  is  caught  in  a  spider's 
web.  The  first  day  that  he  went  to  dine  and  sleep  at 
the  house  he  was  detained  in  the  salon  after  dinner, 
partly  to  make  his  landlady's  acquaintance,  but  chiefly 
by  that  inexplicable  embarrassment  which  often  assails 
timid  people  and  makes  them  fear  to  seem  impolite  by 
breaking  off  a  conversation  in  order  to  take  leave. 
Consequently  he  remained  there  the  whole  evening. 
Then  a  friend  of  his,  a  certain  Mademoiselle  Salomon 
de  Villenoix,  came  to  see  him,  and  this  gave  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  the  happiness  of  forming  a  card- 
table  ;  so  that  when  the  vicar  went  to  bed  he  felt  that 
he  had  passed  a  very  agreeable  evening.  Knowing 
Mademoiselle  Gamard  and  the  Abbe*  Troubert  but 
slightly,  he  saw  only  the  superficial  aspects  of  their 
characters ;  few  persons  bare  their  defects  at  once, 
they  generally  take  on  a  becoming  veneer. 

The  worthy  abbe*  was  thus  led  to  suggest  to  himself 
the  charming  plan  of  devoting  all  his  evenings  to  Made- 
moiselle Gamard,  instead  of  spending  them,  as  Chape- 
loud  had  done,  elsewhere.  The  old  maid  had  for  years 
been  possessed  by  a  desire  which  grew  stronger  day 
by  day.    This  desire,  often  formed  by  old  persons  and 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  253 


even  by  pretty  women,  had  become  in  Mademoiselle  Ga- 
mard's  soul  as  ardent  a  longing  as  that  of  Birotteau 
for  Chapeloud's  apartment ;  and  it  was  strengthened 
by  all  those  feelings  of  pride,  egotism,  envy,  and  vanit}' 
which  pre-exist  in  the  breasts  of  worldly  people. 

This  histor}'  is  of  all  time ;  it  suffices  to  widen 
slightly  the  narrow  circle  in  which  these  personages  are 
about  to  act  to  find  the  coefficient  reasons  of  events 
which  take  place  in  the  very  highest  spheres  of  social 
life. 

Mademoiselle  Gamard  spent  her  evenings  by  rotation 
in  six  or  eight  different  houses.  Whether  it  was  that 
she  disliked  being  obliged  to  go  out  to  seek  societ}^  and 
considered  that  at  her  age  she  had  a  right  to  expect 
some  return ;  or  that  her  pride  was  wounded  at  re- 
ceiving no  company  in  her  own  house ;  or  that  her 
self-love  craved  the  compliments  she  saw  her  various 
hostesses  receive,  —  certain  it  is  that  her  whole  ambition 
was  to  make  her  salon  a  centre  towards  which  a  given 
number  of  persons  should  nightly  make  their  wa}r  with 
pleasure.  One  morning  as  she  left  Saint-Gatien,  after 
Birotteau  and  his  friend  Mademoiselle  Salomon  had 
spent  a  few  evenings  with  her  and  with  the  faithful  and 
patient  Troubert,  she  said  to  certain  of  her  good  friends 
whom  she  met  at  the  church  door,  and  whose  slave  she 
had  hitherto  considered  herself,  that  those  who  wished 
to  see  her  could  certainly  come  once  a  week   to  her 


254  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

house,  where  she  had  friends  enough  to  make  a  card- 
table  ;  she  could  not  leave  the  Abbe  Birotteau ;  Made- 
moiselle Salomon  had  not  missed  a  single  evening  that 
week;  she  was  devoted  to  friends;  and  —  et  cetera, 
et  cetera.  Her  speech  was  all  the  more  humbly  haughty 
and  softly  persuasive  because  Mademoiselle  Salomon  de 
Villenoix  belonged  to  the  most  aristocratic  society  in 
Tours.  For  though  Mademoiselle  Salomon  came  to 
Mademoiselle  Gamard's  house  solely  out  of  friendship 
for  the  vicar,  the  old  maid  triumphed  in  receiving  her, 
and  saw  that,  thanks  to  Birotteau,  she  was  on  the  point 
of  succeeding  in  her  great  desire  to  form  a  circle  as  nu- 
merous and  as  agreeable  as  those  of  Madame  de  Listo- 
mere,  Mademoiselle  Merlin  de  la  Blottiere,  and  other 
devout  ladies  who  were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  the 
pious  and  ecclesiastical  society  of  Tours. 

But  alas  !  the  Abbe  Birotteau  himself  caused  this 
cherished  hope  to  miscarry.  Now  if  those  persons  who 
in  the  course  of  their  lives  have  attained  to  the  enjo}r- 
ment  of  a  long  desired  happiness  and  have  therefore 
comprehended  the  joy  of  the  vicar  when  he  stepped 
into  Chapeloud's  vacant  place,  they  will  also  have 
gained  some  faint  idea  of  Mademoiselle  Gamard's 
distress  at  the  overthrow  of  her  favorite  plan. 

After  accepting  his  happiness  in  the  old  maid's  salon 
for  six  months  with  tolerable  patience,  Birotteau  de- 
serted  the  house  of  an  evening,   carrying   with  him 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  255 

Mademoiselle  Salomon.  In  spite  of  her  utmost  efforts 
the  ambitious  Gamard  had  recruited  barely  six  visitors, 
whose  faithful  attendance  was  more  than  problematical ; 
and  boston  could  not  be  played  night  after  night  unless 
at  least  four  persons  were  present.  The  defection  of 
her  two  principal  guests  obliged  her  therefore  to  make 
suitable  apologies  and  return  to  her  evening  visiting 
among  former  friends ;  for  old  maids  find  their  own 
company  so  distasteful  that  they  prefer  to  seek  the 
doubtful  pleasures  of  society. 

The  cause  of  this  desertion  is  plain  enough.  Although 
the  vicar  was  one  of  those  to  whom  heaven  is  hereafter 
to  belong  in  virtue  of  the  decree  "  Blessed  are  the  poor 
in  spirit,"  he  could  not,  like  some  fools,  endure  the 
annoyance  that  other  fools  caused  him.  Persons  with- 
out minds  are  like  weeds  that  delight  in  good  earth ; 
they  want  to  be  amused  by  others,  all  the  more  because 
they  are  dull  within.  The  incarnation  of  ennui  to  which 
they  are  victims,  joined  to  the  need  they  feel  of  getting 
a  divorce  from  themselves,  produces  that  passion  for 
moving  about,  for  being  somewhere  else  than  where 
they  are,  which  distinguishes  their  species,  —  and  also 
that  of  all  beings  devoid  of  sensitiveness,  and  those  who 
have  missed  their  destinj',  or  who  suffer  by  their  own 
fault. 

Without  really  fathoming  the  vacuity  and  emptiness 
of  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  mind,  or  stating  to  himself 


256  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

the  pettiness  of  her  ideas,  the  poor  abbe"  perceived, 
unfortunately  too  late,  the  defects  which  she  shared 
with  all  old  maids,  and  those  which  were  peculiar  to 
herself.  The  bad  points  of  others  show  out  so  strongly 
against  the  good  that  they  usually  strike  our  eyes 
before  they  wound  us.  This  moral  phenomenon  might, 
at  a  pinch,  be  made  to  excuse  the  tendency  we  all  have, 
more  or  less,  to  gossip.  It  is  so  natural,  socially 
speaking,  to  laugh  at  the  failings  of  others  that  we 
ought  to  forgive  the  ridicule  our  own  absurdities  excite, 
and  be  annoyed  only  by  calumny.  But  in  this  instance 
the  eyes  of  the  good  vicar  never  reached  the  optical 
range  which  enables  men  of  the  world  to  see  and  evade 
their  neighbors'  rough  points.  Before  he  could  be 
brought  to  perceive  the  faults  of  his  landlady  he  was 
forced  to  undergo  the  warning  which  Nature  gives  to 
all  her  creatures  —  pain. 

Old  maids  who  have  never  yielded  in  their  habits  of 
life  or  in  their  characters  to  other  lives  and  other 
characters,  as  the  fate  of  woman  exacts,  have,  as  a 
general  thing,  a  mania  for  making  others  give  way  to 
them.  In  Mademoiselle  Gamard  this  sentiment  had 
degenerated  into  despotism,  but  a  despotism  that  could 
only  exercise  itself  on  little  things.  For  instance 
(among  a  hundred  other  examples),  the  basket  of 
counters  placed  on  the  card-table  for  the  Abbe  Birot- 
teau  was  to  stand  exactly  where   she  placed  ft;    and 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  257 

the  abbe  annexed  her  terribly  by  moving  it,  which  he 
did  nearty  every  evening.  How  is  this  sensitiveness 
stupidly  spent  on  nothings  to  be  accounted  for?  what 
is  the  object  of  it?  No  one  could  have  told  in  this 
case ;  Mademoiselle  Gamard  herself  knew  no  reason 
for  it.  The  vicar,  though  a  sheep  b}r  nature,  did  not 
like,  any  more  than  other  sheep,  to  feel  the  crook  too 
often,  especially  when  it  bristled  with  spikes.  Not 
seeking  to  explain  to  himself  the  patience  of  the  Abbe* 
Troubert,  Birotteau  simply  withdrew  from  the  happi- 
ness which  Mademoiselle  Gamard  believed  that  she 
seasoned  to  his  liking,  —  for  she  regarded  happiness  as 
a  thing  to  be  made,  like  her  preserves.  But  the  luck- 
less abbe  made  the  break  in  a  clumsy  way,  the  natural 
way  of  his  own  naive  character,  and  it  was  not  carried 
out  without  much  nagging  and  sharp-shooting,  which 
the  Abb6  Birotteau  endeavored  to  bear  as  if  he  did  not 
feel  them. 

By  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  his  sojourn  under 
Mademoiselle  Gamard's  roof  the  vicar  had  resumed  his 
former  habits ;  spending  two  evenings  a  week  with 
Madame  de  Listomere,  three  with  Mademoiselle  Sal- 
omon, and  the  other  two  with  Mademoiselle  Merlin  de 
la  Blottiere.  These  ladies  belonged  to  the  aristocratic 
circles  of  Tourainean  society,  to  which  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  was  not  admitted.  Therefore  the  abbe's 
abandonment  was  the  more  insulting,  because  it  made 
17 


258  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

her  feel  her  want  of  social  value ;  all  choice   implies 
contempt  for  the  thing  rejected. 

"  Monsieur  Birotteau  does  not  find  us  agreeable 
enough,"  said  the  Abbe*  Troubert  to  Mademoiselle 
Gamard's  friends  when  she  was  forced  to  tell  them  that 
her  "  evenings"  must  be  given  up.  "  He  is  a  man  of 
the  world,  and  a  good  liver  !  He  wants  fashion,  luxury, 
witty  conversation,  and  the  scandals  of  the  town." 

These  words  of  course  obliged  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
to  defend  herself  at  Birotteau's  expense. 

"  He  is  not  much  a  man  of  the  world,"  she  said. 
*'  Ifit  had  not  been  for  the  Abbe  Chapeloud  he  would 
never  have  been  received  at  Madame  de  Lis  to  tne  re's. 
Oh,  what  did  n't  I  lose  in  losing  the  Abbe*  Chapeloud ! 
Such  an  amiable  man,  and  so  easy  to  live  with !  In 
twelve  whole  years  I  never  had  the  slightest  difficulty 
or  disagreement  with  him." 

Presented  thus,  the  innocent  abbe*  was  considered  by 
this  bourgeois  society,  which  secretly  hated  the  aristo- 
cratic society,  as  a  man  essentially  exacting  and  hard 
to  get  along  with.  For  a  week  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  being  pitied  by  friends  who, 
without  really  thinking  one  word  of  what  they  said, 
kept  repeating  to  her:  "How  could  he  have  turned 
against  you  ?  —  so  kind  and  gentle  as  you  are !  "  or, 
'*  Console  yourself,  dear  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  you 
are  so  well  known  that  — "  et  cetera. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  259 

Nevertheless,  these  friends,  enchanted  to  escape  one 
evening  a  week  in  the  Cloister,  the  darkest,  dreariest, 
and  most  out  of  the  way  corner  in  Tours,  blessed  the 
poor  vicar  in  their  hearts. 

Between  persons  who  are  perpetually  in  each  other's 
company  dislike  or  love  increases  daily  ;  every  moment 
brings  reasons  to  love  or  hate  each  other  more  and 
more.  The  Abbe  Birotteau  soon  became  intolerable  to 
Mademoiselle  Gamard.  Eighteen  months  after  she 
had  taken  him  to  board,  and  at  the  moment  when  the 
worthy  man  was  mistaking  the  silence  of  hatred  for  the 
peacefulness  of  content,  and  applauding  himself  for 
having,  as  he  said,  "  managed  matters  so  well  with  the 
old  maid,"  he  was  really  the  object  of  an  underhand 
persecution  and  a  vengeance  deliberately  planned.  The 
four  marked  circumstances  of  the  locked  door,  the 
forgotten  slippers,  the  lack  of  fire,  and  the  removal  of 
the  candlestick,  were  the  first  signs  that  revealed  to 
him  a  terrible  enmity,  the  final  consequences  of  which 
were  destined  not  to  strike  him  until  the  time  came 
when  they  were  irreparable. 

As  he  went  to  bed  the  wortlry  vicar  worked  his 
brains  —  quite  uselessly,  for  he  was  soon  at  the  end  of 
them  —  to  explain  to  himself  the  extraordinarily  dis- 
courteous conduct  of  Mademoiselle  Gamard.  The  fact 
was  that,  having  all  along  acted  logically  in  obeying 
the  natural  laws  of  his  own  egotism,  it  was  impossible 


260  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

that  he  should  now  perceive  his  own  faults  towards  his 
landlady. 

Though  the  great  things  of  life  are  simple  to  under- 
stand and  easy  to  express,  the  littlenesses  require  a  vast 
number  of  details  to  explain  them.  The  foregoing 
events,  which  may  be  called  a  sort  of  prologue  to  this 
bourgeois  drama,  in  which  we  shall  find  passions  as 
violent  as  those  excited  hy  great  interests,  required  this 
long  introduction  ;  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  for 
any  faithful  historian  to  shorten  the  account  of  these 
minute  developments. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  261 


II. 


The  next  morning,  on  awaking,  Birotteau  thought  so 
much  of  his  prospective  canonry  that  he  forgot  the  four 
circumstances  in  which  he  had  seen,  the  night  before, 
such  threatening  prognostics  of  a  future  full  of  misery. 
The  vicar  was  not  a  man  to  get  up  without  a  fire.  He 
rang  to  let  Marianne  know  he  was  awake  and  that  she 
must  come  to  him  ;  then  he  remained,  as  his  habit  was, 
absorbed  in  somnolent  musings.  The  servant's  custom 
was  to  make  the  fire  and  gently  draw  him  from  his 
half  sleep  by  the  murmured  sound  of  her  movements, 
—  a  sort  of  music  which  he  loved.  Twenty  minutes 
passed  and  Marianne  had  not  appeared.  The  vicar, 
now  half  a  canon,  was  about  to  ring  again,  when  he 
let  go  the  bell-pull,  hearing  a  man's  step  on  the  stair- 
case. In  a  minute  more  the  Abbe  Troubert,  after 
discreetly  knocking  at  the  door,  obeyed  Birotteau's 
invitation  and  entered  the  room.  This  visit,  which  the 
two  abbes  usually  paid  to  each  other  once  a  month, 
was  no  surprise  to  the  vicar.  The  canon  at  once  ex- 
claimed when  he  saw  that  Marianne  had  not  made  the 
fire  of  his  quasi-colleague.     He  opened  the   window 


262  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

and  called  to  her  harshly,  telling  her  to  come  at  once 
to  the  abbe ;  then,  turning  round  to  his  ecclesiastical 
brother,  he  said,  "If  Mademoiselle  knew  that  you 
had  no  fire  she  would  scold  Marianne." 

After  this  speech  he  inquired  about  Birotteau's 
health,  and  asked  in  a  gentle  voice  if  he  had  had  any 
recent  news  that  gave  him  hopes  of  his  canonr}\  The 
vicar  explained  the  steps  he  had  taken,  and  told, 
naively,  the  names  of  the  persons  with  whom  Madame 
de  Listomere  was  using  her  influence,  quite  unaware  that 
Troubert  had  never  forgiven  that  lady  for  not  admit- 
ting him  —  the  Abbe"  Troubert,  twice  proposed  by  the 
bishop  as  vicar-general !  —  to  her  house. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  find  two  figures  which 
presented  so  many  contrasts  to  each  other  as  those  of 
the  two  abbes.  Troubert,  tall  and  lean,  was  yellow 
and  bilious,  while  the  vicar  was  what  we  call,  famil- 
iarly, plump.  Birotteau's  face,  round  and  rudd}',  pro- 
claimed a  kindly  nature  barren  of  ideas,  while  that 
of  the  Abbe  Troubert,  long  and  ploughed  by  many 
wrinkles,  took  on  at  times  an  expression  of  sarcasm, 
or  else  of  contempt ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  watch 
him  very  closely  before  those  sentiments  could  be  de- 
tected. The  canon's  habitual  condition  was  perfect 
calmness,  and  his  eyelids  were  usually  lowered  over  his 
orange-colored  eyes,  which  could,  however,  give  clear 
and  piercing  glances  when  he  liked.    Reddish  hair  added 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  263 

to  the  gloom}7  effect  of  this  countenance,  which  was 
always  obscured  by  the  veil  which  deep  meditation 
drew  across  its  features.  Many  persons  at  first  sight 
thought  him  absorbed  in  high  and  earnest  ambitions ; 
but  those  who  claimed  to  know  him  better  denied  that 
impression,  insisting  that  he  was  only  stupidly  dull 
under  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  despotism,  or  else  worn 
out  by  too  much  fasting.  He  seldom  spoke,  and  never 
laughed.  When  it  did  so  happen  that  he  felt  agree- 
ably moved,  a  feeble  smile  would  flicker  on  his  lips 
and  lose  itself  in  the  wrinkles  of  his  face. 

Birotteau,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all  expansion,  all 
frankness ;  he  loved  good  things  and  was  amused  b}T 
trifles  with  the  simplicit}'  of  a  man  who  knew  no  spite 
or  malice.  The  Abbe  Troubert  roused,  at  first  sight, 
an  involuntary  feeling  of  fear,  while  the  vicar's  pres- 
ence brought  a  kindly  smile  to  the  lips  of  all  who 
looked  at  him.  When  the  tall  canon  marched  with 
solemn  step  through  the  naves  and  cloisters  of  Saint- 
Gatien,  his  head  bowed,  his  eye  stern,  respect  fol- 
lowed him ;  that  bent  face  was  in  harmony  with  the 
yellowing  arches  of  the  cathedral ;  the  folds  of  his 
cassock  fell  in  monumental  lines  that  were  worthy  of 
statuary.  The  good  vicar,  on  the  contrary,  perambu- 
lated about  with  no  gravity  at  all.  He  trotted  and 
ambled  and  seemed  at  times  to  roll  himself  along. 
But  with   all  this    there    was    one    point    of  resem- 


264  The    Vicar  of  Tours.    . 

blance  between  the  two  men.  For,  precise!}*  as  Trou- 
bert's  ambitious  air,  which  made  him  feared,  had 
contributed  probably  to  keep  him  down  to  the  insig- 
nificant position  of  a  mere  canon,  so  the  character  and 
ways  of  Birotteau  marked  him  out  as  perpetually  the 
vicar  of  the  cathedral  and  nothing  higher. 

Yet  the  Abbe  Troubert,  now  fifty  years  of  age,  had 
entirely  removed,  partly  by  the  circumspection  of  his 
conduct  and  the  apparent  lack  of  all  ambition,  and 
partly  by  his  saintly  life,  the  fears  which  his  suspected 
ability  and  his  powerful  presence  had  roused  in  the  minds 
of  his  superiors.  His  health  having  seriously  failed 
during  the  last  year,  it  seemed  probable  that  he  would 
soon  be  raised  to  the  office  of  vicar-general  of  the 
archbishopric.  His  competitors  themselves  desired  the 
appointment,  so  that  their  own  plans  might  have  time 
to  mature  during  the  few  remaining  days  which  a 
malady,  now  become  chronic,  might  allow  him.  Far 
from  offering  the  same  hopes  to  rivals,  Birotteau's 
triple  chin  showed  to  all  who  wanted  his  coveted 
canonry  an  evidence  of  the  soundest  health ;  even  his 
gout  seemed  to  them,  in  accordance  with  the  proverb, 
an  assurance  of  longevity. 

The  Abbe  Chapeloud,  a  man  of  great  good  sense, 
whose  amiability  had  made  the  leaders  of  the  diocese 
and  the  members  of  the  best  society  in  Tours  seek  his 
company,  had  steadily  opposed,  though  secretly  and 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  265 

with  much  judgment,  the  elevation  of  the  Abbe  Trou- 
bert.  He  had  even  adroitly  managed  to  prevent  his 
access  to  the  salons  of  the  best  society.  Nevertheless, 
during  Chapeloud's  lifetime  Troubert  treated  fiim  in- 
variably with  great  respect,  and  showed  him  on  all 
occasions  the  utmost  deference.  This  constant  sub- 
mission did  not,  however,  change  the  opinion  of  the 
late  canon,  who  said  to  Birotteau  during  the  last  walk 
they  took  together:  "Distrust  that  lean  stick  of  a 
Troubert,  —  Sixtus  the  Fifth  reduced  to  the  limits  of 
a  bishopric !  " 

Such  was  the  friend,  the  abiding  guest  of  Mademoi- 
selle Gamard,  who  now  came,  the  morning  after  the 
old  maid  had,  as  it  were,  declared  war  against  the  poor 
vicar,  to  pay  his  brother  a  visit  and  show  him  marks 
of  friendship. 

44  You  must  excuse  Marianne,"  said  the  canon,  as 
the  woman  entered.  "  I  suppose  she  went  first  to  my 
rooms.  They  are  very  damp,  and  I  coughed  all  night. 
You  are  most  healthily  situated  here,"  he  added,  look- 
ing up  at  the  cornice. 

44  Yes  ;  I  am  lodged  like  a  canon,"  replied  Birotteau. 

"  And  I  like  a  vicar,"  said  the  other,  humbly. 

"But  you  will  soon  be  settled  in  the  archbishop's 
palace,"  said  the  kindly  vicar,  who  wanted  everybody 
to  be  happy. 

44  Yes,  or  in  the  cemetery  ;  but  God's  will  be  done  !  " 


266  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

and  Troubert  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  resignedly. 
M  I  came,"  he  said,  "  to  ask  you  to  lend  me  the  '  Register 
of  Bishops.'  You  are  the  only  man  in  Tours  who  owns 
a  copy." 

"  Take  it  out  of  my  library,"  replied  Birotteau,  re- 
minded by  the  canon's  words  of  the  greatest  happiness 
of  his  life. 

The  canon  passed  into  the  library  and  stayed  there 
while  the  vicar  dressed.  Presently  the  breakfast  bell 
rang,  and  the  gouty  vicar  reflected  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  Troubert's  visit  he  would  have  had  no  fire  to 
dress  by.     "  He  's  a  kind  man,"  thought  he. 

The  two  priests  went  downstairs  together,  each 
armed  with  a  huge  folio  which  they  laid  on  one  of 
the  side  tables  in  the  dining-room. 

"  What's  all  that?"  asked  Mademoiselle  Gamard, 
in  a  sharp  voice,  addressing  Birotteau.  "I  hope  you 
are  not  going  to  litter  up  nty  dining-room  with  your 
old  books ! " 

"  They  are  books  I  wanted,"  replied  the  Abbe 
Troubert.  "  Monsieur  Birotteau  has  been  kind  enough 
to  lend  them  to  me." 

"  I  might  have  guessed  it,"  she  said,  with  a  con- 
temptuous smile.  " Monsieur  Birotteau  doesn't  often 
read  books  of  that  size." 

"  How  are  you,  mademoiselle?"  said  the  vicar,  in  a 
mellifluous  voice. 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  267 

"  Not  very  well,"  she  replied,  shortly.  "  You  woke 
me  last  night  out  of  my  first  sleep,  and  I  was  wakeful 
for  the  rest  of  the  night."  Then,  sitting  down,  she 
added,  "  Gentlemen,  the  milk  is  getting  cold." 

Stupefied  at  being  so  ill-naturedly  received  by  his 
landlady,  from  whom  he  half  expected  an  apology,  and 
yet  alarmed,  like  all  timid  people  at  the  prospect  of  a 
discussion,  especially  if  it  relates  to  themselves,  the 
poor  vicar  took  his  seat  in  silence.  Then,  observing  in 
Mademoiselle  Gamard's  face  the  visible  signs  of  ill- 
humor,  he  was  goaded  into  a  struggle  between  his  rea- 
son, which  told  him  that  he  ought  not  to  submit  to  such 
discourtesy  from  a  landlady,  and  his  natural  character, 
which  prompted  him  to  avoid  a  quarrel. 

Torn  by  this  inward  misery,  Birotteau  fell  to  exam- 
ining attentively  the  broad  green  lines  painted  on  the 
oilcloth  which,  from  custom  immemorial,  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  left  on  the  table  at  breakfast-time,  without 
regard  to  the  ragged  edges  or  the  various  scars  dis- 
played on  its  surface.  The  priests  sat  opposite  to  each 
other  in  cane-seated  arm-chairs  on  either  side  of  the 
square  table,  the  head  of  which  was  taken  by  the  land- 
lady, who  seemed  to  dominate  the  whole  from  a  high 
chair  raised  on  casters,  filled  with  cushions,  and  stand- 
ing very  near  to  the  dining-room  stove.  This  room  and 
the  salon  were  on  the  ground-floor  beneath  the  salon 
and  bedroom  of  the  Abbe  Birotteau. 


268  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

When  the  vicar  had  received  his  cup  of  coffee,  duly 
sugared,  from  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  he  felt  chilled  to 
the  bone  at  the  grim  silence  in  which  he  was  forced 
to  proceed  with  the  usually  gay  function  of  breakfast. 
He  dared  not  look  at  Troubert's  dried-up  features,  nor 
at  the  threatening  visage  of  the  old  maid  ;  and  he 
therefore  turned,  to  keep  himself  in  countenance,  to 
the  plethoric  pug  which  was  lying  on  a  cushion  near 
the  stove,  —  a  position  that  victim  of  obesity  seldom 
quitted,  having  a  little  plate  of  dainties  always  at  his 
left  side  and  a  bowl  of  fresh  water  at  his  right. 

"  Well,  my  pretty,"  said  the  vicar,  "  are  you  waiting 
for  your  coffee  ?  " 

The  personage  thus  addressed,  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant in  the  household,  though  the  least  troublesome 
inasmuch  as  he  had  ceased  to  bark  and  left  the  talking 
to  his  mistress,  turned  his  little  eyes,  sunk  in  rolls  of 
fat,  upon  Birotteau.  Then  he  closed  them  peevishly. 
To  explain  the  misery  of  the  poor  vicar  it  should  be 
said  that  being  endowed  by  nature  with  an  empty  and 
sonorous  loquacity,  like  the  resounding  of  a  football, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  asserting,  without  any  medical 
reason  to  back  him,  that  speech  favored  digestion. 
Mademoiselle  Gamard,  who  believed  in  this  hygienic 
doctrine,  had  not  as  3'et  refrained,  in  spite  of  their 
coolness,  from  talking  at  meals ;  though,  for  the  last 
few  mornings,  the  vicar  had  been  forced  to  strain  his 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  269 

mind  to  find  beguiling  topics  on  which  to  loosen  her 
tongue.  If  the  narrow  limits  of  this  history  permitted 
us  to  report  even  one  of  the  conversations  which  often 
brought  a  bitter  and  sarcastic  smile  to  the  lips  of  the 
Abbe  Troubert,  it  would  offer  a  finished  picture  of  the 
Boeotian  life  of  the  provinces.  The  singular  revelations 
of  the  Abbe-  Birotteau  and  Mademoiselle  Gamard  re- 
lating to  their  personal  opinions  on  politics,  religion,  and 
literature  would  delight  observing  minds.  It  would  be 
highty  entertaining  to  transcribe  the  reasons  on  which 
they  mutually  doubted  the  death  of  Napoleon  in  1820, 
or  the  conjectures  by  which  the}"  mutually  believed  that 
the  Dauphin  was  living,  —  rescued  from  the  Temple  in 
the  hollow  of  a  huge  log  of  wood.  Who  could  have 
helped  laughing  to  hear  them  assert  and  prove,  by 
reasons  evidently  their  own,  that  the  King  of  France 
alone  imposed  the  taxes,  that  the  Chambers  were  con- 
voked to  destnty  the  clergy,  that  thirteen  hundred 
thousand  persons  had  perished  on  the  scaffold  during 
the  Revolution?  They  frequently  discussed  the  press, 
without  either  of  them  having  the  faintest  idea  of  what 
that  modern  engine  really  was.  Monsieur  Birotteau 
listened  with  acceptance  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
when  she  told  him  that  a  man  who  ate  an  egg  every 
morning  would  die  in  a  year,  and  that  facts  proved  it ; 
that  a  roll  of  light  bread  eaten  without  drinking  for 
several  days  together  would  cure  sciatica ;  that  all  the 


270  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

workmen  who  assisted  in  pulling  down  the  Abbey 
Saint-Martin  had  died  in  six  months;  that  a  certain 
prefect,  under  orders  from  Bonaparte,  had  done  his 
best  to  damage  the  towers  of  Saint-Gatien, — with  a 
hundred  other  absurd  tales. 

But  on  this  occasion  poor  Birotteau  felt  he  was 
tongue-tied,  and  he  resigned  himself  to  eat  a  meal 
without  engaging  in  conversation.  After  a  while, 
however,  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  that  silence  was 
dangerous  for  his  digestion,  and  he  boldly  remarked, 
u  This  coffee  is  excellent." 

That  act  of  courage  was  completely  wasted.  Then, 
after  looking  at  the  scrap  of  sky  visible  above  the 
garden  between  the  two  buttresses  of  Saint-Gatien,  the 
vicar  again  summoned  nerve  to  say,  ••  It  will  be  finer 
weather  to-day  than  it  was  yesterday." 

At  that  remark  Mademoiselle  Gamard  cast  her  most 
gracious  look  on  the  Abbe"  Troubert,  and  immediately 
turned  her  eyes  with  terrible  severity  on  Birotteau,  who 
fortunately  by  that  time  was  looking  on  his  plate. 

No  creature  of  the  feminine  gender  was  ever  more 
capable  of  presenting  to  the  mind  the  elegiac  nature 
of  an  old  maid  than  Mademoiselle  Sophie  Gamard.  In 
order  to  describe  a  being  whose  character  gives  a 
momentous  interest  to  the  petty  events  of  the  present 
drama  and  to  the  anterior  lives  of  the  actors  in  it,  it 
ma}'  be  useful  to  give  a  summary  of  the  ideas  which 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  271 

find  expression  in  the  being  of  an  Old  Maid,  —  re- 
membering always  that  the  habits  of  life  form  the  soul, 
and  the  soul  forms  the  physical  presence. 

Though  all  things  in  society  as  well  as  in  the  universe 
are  said  to  have  a  purpose,  there  do  exist  here  below 
certain  beings  whose  purpose  and  utility  seem  inexpli- 
cable. Moral  philosophy  and  political  economy  both 
condemn  the  individual  who  consumes  without  pro- 
ducing ;  who  fills  a  place  on  the  earth  but  does  not 
shed  upon  it  either  good  or  evil,  —  for  evil  is  some- 
times good  the  meaning  of  which  is  not  at  once  made 
manifest.  It  is  seldom  that  old  maids  of  their  own 
motion  enter  the  ranks  of  these  unproductive  beings. 
Now,  if  the  consciousness  of  work  done  gives  to  the 
workers  a  sense  of  satisfaction  which  helps  them  to 
support  life,  the  certainty  of  being  a  useless  burden 
must,  one  would  think,  produce  a  contrary  effect,  and 
fill  the  minds  of  such  fruitless  beings  with  the  same 
contempt  for  themselves  which  they  inspire  in  others. 
This  harsh  social  reprobation  is  one  of  the  causes  which 
contribute  to  fill  the  souls  of  old  maids  with  the  dis- 
tress that  appears  in  their  faces.  Prejudice,  in  which 
there  is  truth,  does  cast,  throughout  the  world  but 
especially  in  France,  a  great  stigma  on  the  woman  with 
whom  no  man  has  been  willing  to  share  the  blessings 
or  endure  the  ills  of  life.  Now,  there  comes  to  all 
unmarried  women  a  period  when  the  world,  be  it  right 


y 


272  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

or  wrong,  condemns  them  on  the  fact  of  this  contempt, 
this  rejection.  If  the}-  are  ugly,  the  goodness  of  their 
characters  ought  to  have  compensated  for  their  natural 
imperfections ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  handsome, 
that  fact  argues  that  their  misfortune  has  some  serious 
cause.  It  is  impossible  to  say  which  of  the  two  classes 
is  most  deserving  of  rejection.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
their  celibac}'  is  deliberate,  if  it  proceeds  from  a  desire 
for  independence,  neither  men  nor  mothers  will  forgive 
their  disloyalty  to  womanly  devotion,  evidenced  in  their 
refusal  to  feel  those  passions  which  render  their  sex  so 
affecting.  To  renounce  the  pangs  of  womanhood  is  to 
abjure  its  poetry  and  cease  to  merit  the  consolations  to 
which  mothers  have  inalienable  rights. 

Moreover,  the  generous  sentiments,  the  exquisite  qual- 
ities of  a  woman  will  not  develop  unless  by  constant 
exercise.  By  remaining  unmarried,  a  creature  of  the 
female  sex  becomes  void  of  meaning  ;  selfish  and  cold, 
she  creates  repulsion.  This  implacable  judgment  of 
the  world  is  unfortunately  too  just  to  leave  old  maids 
in  ignorance  of  its  causes.  Such  ideas  shoot  up  in 
their  hearts  as  naturally  as  the  effects  of  their  saddened 
lives  appear  upon  their  features.  Consequently  they 
wither,  because  the  constant  expression  of  happiness 
which  blooms  on  the  faces  of  other  women  and  gives 
so  soft  a  grace  to  their  movements  has  never  existed 
for  them.     They  grow  sharp  and  peevish  because  all 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  273 

human  beings  who  miss  their  vocation  are  unhappy, 
they  suffer,  and  suffering  gives  birth  to  the  bitterness 
of  ill-will.  In  fact,  before  an  old  maid  blames  herself 
for  her  isolation  she  blames  others,  and  there  is  but  one 
step  between  reproach  and  the  desire  for  revenge. 

But  more  than  this,  the  ill  grace  and  want  of  charm 
noticeable  in  these  women  are  the  necessary  result  of 
their  lives.  Never  having  felt  a  desire  to  please,  ele- 
gance and  the  refinements  of  good  taste  are  foreign  to 
them.  They  see  only  themselves  in  themselves.  This 
instinct  brings  them,  unconsciousty,  to  choose  the 
things  that  are  most  convenient  to  themselves,  at  the 
sacrifice  of  those  which  might  be  more  agreeable  to 
others.  Without  rendering  account  to  their  own  minds 
of  the  difference  between  themselves  and  other  women, 
they  end  by  feeling  that  difference  and  suffering  under 
it.  Jealousy  is  an  indelible  sentiment  in  the  female 
breast.  An  old  maid's  soul  is  jealous  and  yet  void ; 
for  she  knows  but  one  side  —  the  miserable  side  —  of  the 
onl}'  passion  men  will  allow  (because  it  flatters  them) 
to  women.  Thus  thwarted  in  all  their  hopes,  forced  to 
deny  themselves  the  natural  development  of  their  na- 
tures, old  maids  endure  an  inward  torment  to  which  they 
never  grow  accustomed.  It  is  hard  at  any  age,  above 
all  for  a  woman,  to  see  a  feeling  of  repulsion  on  the  faces 
of  others,  when  her  true  destiny  is  to  move  all  hearts 
about  her  to  emotions  of  grace  and  love.     One  result 

18 


274  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

of  this  inward  trouble  is  that  an  old  maid's  glance  is 
always  oblique,  less  from  modest}'  than  from  fear  and 
shame.  Such  beings  never  forgive  society  for  their 
false  position  because  they  never  forgive  themselves 
for  it. 

Now  it  is  impossible  for  a  woman  who  is  perpetually 
at  war  with  herself  and  living  in  contradiction  to  her 
true  life,  to  leave  others  in  peace  or  refrain  from  en- 
vying their  happiness.  The  whole  range  of  these  sad 
truths  could  be  read  in  the  dulled  gray  eyes  of  Made- 
moiselle Gamard ;  the  dark  circles  that  surrounded 
those  eyes  told  of  the  inward  conflicts  of  her  solitary 
life.  All  the  wrinkles  on  her  face  were  in  straight  lines. 
The  structure  of  her  forehead  and  cheeks  was  rigid 
and  prominent.  She  allowed,  with  apparent  indiffer- 
ence, certain  scattered  hairs,  once  brown,  to  grow 
upon  her  chin.  Her  thin  lips  scarcely  covered  teeth 
that  were  too  long,  though  still  quite  white.  Her  com- 
plexion was  dark,  and  her  hair,  originally  black,  had 
turned  gray  from  frightful  headaches,  —  a  misfortune 
which  obliged  her  to  wear  a  false  front.  Not  knowing 
how  to  put  it  on  so  as  to  conceal  the  junction  between 
the  real  and  the  false,  there  were  often  little  gaps  be- 
tween the  border  of  her  cap  and  the  black  string  with 
which  this  semi-wig  (always  badly  curled)  was  fastened 
to  her  head.  Her  gown,  silk  in  summer,  merino  in  winter, 
and  always  brown  in  color,  was  invariably  rather  tight 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  275 

for  her  angular  figure  and  thin  arms.  Her  collar,  limp 
and  bent,  exposed  too  much  the  red  skin  of  a  neck 
which  was  ribbed  like  an  oak-leaf  in  winter  seen  in 
the  light.  Her  origin  explains  to  some  extent  the  defects 
of  her  conformation.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wood- 
merchant,  a  peasant,  who  had  risen  from  the  ranks. 
She  might  have  been  plump  at  eighteen,  but  no  trace 
remained  of  the  fair  complexion  and  pretty  color  of 
which  she  was  wont  to  boast.  The  tones  of  her  flesh 
had  taken  the  pallid  tints  so  often  seen  in  devotes. 
Her  aquiline  nose  was  the  feature  that  chiefly  pro- 
claimed the  despotism  of  her  nature,  and  the  flat  shape 
of  her  forehead  the  narrowness  of  her  mind.  Her  move- 
ments had  an  odd  abruptness  which  precluded  all  grace ; 
the  mere  motion  with  which  she  twitched  her  handker- 
chief from  her  bag  and  blew  her  nose  with  a  loud  noise 
would  have  shown  her  character  and  habits  to  a  keen 
observer.  Being  rather  tall,  she  held  herself  very 
erect,  and  justified  the  remark  of  a  naturalist  who  once 
explained  the  peculiar  gait  of  old  maids  by  declaring 
that  their  joints  were  consolidating.  When  she  walked 
her  movements  were  not  equally  distributed  over  her 
whole  person,  as  they  are  in  other  women,  producing 
those  graceful  undulations  which  are  so  attractive. 
She  moved,  so  to  speak,  in  a  single  block,  seeming  to  ad- 
vance at  each  step  like  the  statue  of  the  Commendatore. 
When  she  felt  in  good  humor  she  was  apt,  like  other 


276  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

old  maids,  to  tell  of  the  chances  she  had  had  to  marry, 
and  of  her  fortunate  discovery  in  time  of  the  want  of 
means  of  her  lovers,  —  proving,  unconsciously,  that  her 
worldl}'  judgment  was  better  than  her  heart. 

This  typical  figure  of  the  genus  Old  Maid  was  well 
framed  by  the  grotesque  designs,  representing  Turkish 
landscapes,  on  a  varnished  paper  which  decorated  the 
walls  of  the  dining-room.  Mademoiselle  Gamard  usu- 
ally sat  in  this  room,  which  boasted  of  two  pier  tables 
and  a  barometer.  Before  the  chair  of  each  abbe  was 
a  little  cushion  covered  with  worsted  work,  the  colors 
of  which  were  faded.  The  salon  in  which  she  re- 
ceived company  was  worthy  of  its  mistress.  It  will  be 
visible  to  the  eye  at  once  when  we  state  that  it  went 
by  the  name  of  the  "  yellow  salon."  The  curtains  were 
yellow,  the  furniture  and  walls  yellow ;  on  the  mantel- 
piece, surmounted  by  a  mirror  in  a  gilt  frame,  the 
candlesticks  and  a  clock  all  of  crystal  struck  the  eye 
with  sharp  brilliancy.  As  to  the  private  apartment  of 
Mademoiselle  Gamard,  no  one  had  ever  been  permitted 
to  look  into  it.  Conjecture  alone  suggested  that  it  was 
full  of  odds  and  ends,  worn-out  furniture,  and  bits  of 
stuff  and  pieces  dear  to  the  hearts  of  all  old  maids. 

Such  was  the  woman  destined  to  exert  a  vast  influ- 
ence on  the  last  years  of  the  Abbe  Birotteau. 

For  want  of  exercising  in  nature's  own  way  the  ac- 
tivity bestowed  upon  women,  and  }*et  impelled  to  spend 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  211 

it  in  some  way  or  other,  Mademoiselle  Gamard  had 
acquired  the  habit  of  using  it  in  petty  intrigues,  pro- 
vincial cabals,  and  those  self-seeking  schemes  which 
occupy,  sooner  or  later,  the  lives  of  all  old  maids. 
Birotteau,  unhappily,  had  developed  in  Sophie  Gamard 
the  only  sentiments  which  it  was  possible  for  that  poor 
creature  to  feel,  — those  of  hatred  ;  a  passion  hitherto 
latent  under  the  calmness  and  monotony  of  provincial 
life,  but  which  was  now  to  become  the  more  intense 
because  it  was  spent  on  petty  things  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  narrow  sphere.  Birotteau  was  one  of  those  beings 
who  are  predestined  to  suffer  because,  being  unable  to 
see  things,  they  cannot  avoid  them ;  to  them  the  worst 
happens. 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  a  fine  day,"  replied  the  canon,  after 
a  pause,  apparently  issuing  from  a  revery  and  wishing 
to  conform  to  the  rules  of  politeness. 

Birotteau,  frightened  at  the  length  of  time  which  had 
elapsed  between  the  question  and  the  answer,  —  for  he 
had,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  taken  his  coffee  with- 
out uttering  a  word,  —  now  left  the  dining-room  where 
his  heart  was  squeezed  as  if  in  a  vise.  Feeling  that 
the  coffee  lay  heav}'  on  his  stomach,  he  went  to  walk  in 
a  sad  mood  among  the  narrow,  box-edged  paths  which 
outlined  a  star  in  the  little  garden.  As  he  turned 
after  making  the  first  round,  he  saw  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  and  the  Abbe  Troubert  standing   stock-still 


278  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

and  silent  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  —  he  with  his 
arms  folded  and  motionless  like  a  statue  on  a  tomb ; 
she  leaning  against  the  blind  door.  Both  seemed  to 
be  gazing  at  him  and  counting  his  steps.  Nothing  is 
so  embarrassing  to  a  creature  naturally  timid  as  to  feel 
itself  the  object  of  a  close  examination,  and  if  that  is 
made  by  the  eyes  of  hatred,  the  sort  of  suffering  it 
causes  is  changed  into  intolerable  martyrdom. 

Presently  Birotteau  fancied  he  was  preventing  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  and  the  abbe"  from  walking  in  the 
narrow  path.  That  idea,  inspired  equally  by  fear  and 
kindness,  became  so  strong  that  he  left  the  garden  and 
went  to  the  church,  thinking  no  longer  of  his  canonry, 
so  absorbed  was  he  by  the  disheartening  tyranny  of 
the  old  maid.  Luckily  for  him  he  happened  to  find 
much  to  do  at  Saint-Gatien,  —  several  funerals,  a  mar- 
riage, and  two  baptisms.  Thus  employed  he  forgot  his 
griefs.  When  his  stomach  told  him  that  dinner  was 
ready  he  drew  out  his  watch  and  saw,  not  without  alarm, 
that  it  was  some  minutes  after  four.  Being  well  aware 
of  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  punctuality,  he  hurried  back 
to  the  house. 

He  saw  at  once  on  passing  the  kitchen  that  the  first 
course  had  been  removed.  When  he  reached  the 
dining-room  the  old  maid  said,  with  a  tone  of  voice  in 
which  were  mingled  sour  rebuke  and  joy  at  being  able 
to  blame  him  :  — 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  279 

"It  is  half-past  four,  Monsieur  Birotteau.  You 
know  we  are  not  to  wait  for  you." 

The  vicar  looked  at  the  clock  in  the  dining-room,  and 
saw  at  once,  by  the  way  the  gauze  which  protected  it 
from  dust  had  been  moved,  that  his  landlady  had 
opened  the  face  of  the  dial  and  set  the  hands  in  ad- 
vance of  the  clock  of  the  cathedral.  He  could  make 
no  remark.  Had  he  uttered  his  suspicion  it  would  only 
have  caused  and  apparently  justified  one  of  those  fierce 
and  eloquent  explosions  to  which  Mademoiselle  Gamard, 
like  other  women  of  her  class,  knew  very  well  how  to 
give  vent  in  particular  cases.  The  thousand  and  one 
annoyances  which  a  servant  will  sometimes  make  her 
master  bear,  or  a  woman  her  husband,  were  instinc- 
tively divined  by  Mademoiselle  Gamard  and  used  upon 
Birotteau.  The  way  in  which  she  delighted  in  plotting 
against  the  poor  vicar's  domestic  comfort  bore  all  the 
marks  of  what  we  must  call  a  profoundly  malignant 
genius.  Yet  she  so  managed  that  she  was  never,  so 
far  as  eye  could  see,  in  the  wrong. 


280  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 


III. 


Eight  days  after  the  date  on  which  this  history 
began,  the  new  arrangements  of  the  household  and  the 
relations  which  grew  up  between  the  Abbe"  Birotteau 
and  Mademoiselle  Gamard  revealed  to  the  former  the 
existence  of  a  plot  which  had  been  hatching  for  the  last 
six  months. 

As  long  as  the  old  maid  exercised  her  vengeance  in 
an  underhand  way,  and  the  vicar  was  able  to  shut  his 
eyes  to  it  and  refuse  to  believe  in  her  malevolent  inten- 
tions, the  moral  effect  upon  him  was  slight.  But  since 
the  affair  of  the  candlestick  and  the  altered  clock, 
Birotteau  would  doubt  no  longer  that  he  was  under  an 
eye  of  hatred  turned  fully  upon  him.  From  that  moment 
he  fell  into  despair,  seeing  everywhere  the  skinn}',  claw- 
like fingers  of  Mademoiselle  Gamard  ready  to  hook 
into  his  heart.  The  old  maid,  happy  in  a  sentiment  as 
fruitful  of  emotions  as  that  of  vengeance,  enjoyed 
circling  and  swooping  above  the  vicar  as  a  bird  of  prey 
hovers  and  swoops  above  a  field-mouse  before  pouncing 
down  upon  it  and  devouring  it.  She  had  long  since 
laid  a  plan  which  the  poor  dumbfounded  priest  was 
quite  incapable  of  imagining,  and  which  she  now  pro- 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  281 

ceeded  to  unfold  with  that  genius  for  little  things  often 
shown  by  solitary  persons,  whose  souls,  incapable  of 
feeling  the  grandeur  of  true  piety,  fling  themselves  into 
the  details  of  outward  devotion. 

The  petty  nature  of  his  troubles  prevented  Birotteau, 
always  effusive  and  liking  to  be  pitied  and  consoled, 
from  enjoying  the  soothing  pleasure  of  taking  his 
friends  into  his  confidence,  —  a  last  but  cruel  aggrava- 
tion of  his  misery.  The  little  amount  of  tact  which  he 
derived  from  his  timidity  made  him  fear  to  seem  ridic- 
ulous in  concerning  himself  with  such  pettiness.  And 
yet  those  petty  things  made  up  the  sum  of  his  exist- 
ence, —  that  cherished  existence,  full  of  busyness  about 
nothings,  and  of  nothingness  in  its  business ;  a  color- 
less barren  life  in  which  strong  feelings  were  misfortunes, 
and  the  absence  of  emotion  happiness.  The  poor 
priest's  paradise  was  changed,  in  a  moment,  into  hell. 
His  sufferings  became  intolerable.  The  terror  he  felt 
at  the  prospect  of  a  discussion  with  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  increased  day  by  day ;  the  secret  distress 
which  blighted  his  life  began  to  injure  his  health.  One 
morning,  as  he  put  on  his  mottled  blue  stockings,  he 
noticed  a  marked  diminution  in  the  circumference  of 
his  calves.  Horrified  by  so  cruel  and  undeniable  a 
symptom,  he  resolved  to  make  an  effort  and  appeal  to 
the  Abbe"  Troubert,  requesting  him  to  intervene,  offi- 
cially, between  Mademoiselle  Gamard  and  himself. 


282  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

When  he  found  himself  in  presence  of  the  imposing 
canon,  who,  in  order  to  receive  his  visitor  in  a  bare 
and  cheerless  room,  had  hastily  quitted  a  study  full  of 
papers,  where  he  worked  incessantly  and  where  no  one 
was  ever  admitted,  the  vicar  felt  half  ashamed  at 
speaking  of  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  provocations  to  a 
man  who  appeared  to  be  so  gravely  occupied.  But 
after  going  through  the  agon}'  of  the  mental  delibera- 
tions which  all  humble,  undecided,  and  feeble  persons 
endure  about  things  of  even  no  importance,  he  decided, 
not  without  much  swelling  and  beating  of  the  heart,  to 
explain  his  position  to  the  Abb6  Troubert. 

The  canon  listened  in  a  cold,  grave  manner,  trying, 
but  in  vain,  to  repress  an  occasional  smile  which  to 
more  intelligent  eyes  than  those  of  the  vicar  might  have 
betrayed  the  emotions  of  a  secret  satisfaction.  A  flame 
seemed  to  dart  from  his  eyelids  when  Birotteau  pic- 
tured with  the  eloquence  of  genuine  feeling  the  constant 
bitterness  he  was  made  to  swallow ;  but  Troubert  laid 
his  hand  above  those  lids  with  a  gesture  very  common 
to  thinkers,  maintaining  the  dignified  demeanor  which 
was  usual  with  him.  When  the  vicar  had  ceased  to 
speak  he  would  indeed  have  been  puzzled  had  he 
sought  on  Troubert's  face,  marbled  with  yellow 
blotches  even  more  yellow  than  his  usually  bilious  skin, 
for  any  trace  of  the  feelings  he  must  have  excited  in 
that  mysterious  priest. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  283 

After  a  moment's  silence  the  canon  made  one  of 
those  answers  which  required  long  study  before  their 
meaning  could  be  thoroughly  perceived,  though  later 
they  proved  to  reflecting  persons  the  astonishing  depths 
of  his  spirit  and  the  power  of  his  mind.  He  simply 
crushed  Birotteau  by  telling  him  that  "  these  things 
amazed  him  all  the  more  because  he  should  never  have 
suspected  their  existence  were  it  not  for  his  brother's 
confession.  He  attributed  such  stupidity  on  his  part 
to  the  gravity  of  his  occupations,  his  labors,  the  absorp- 
tion in  which  his  mind  was  held  by  certain  elevated 
thoughts  which  prevented  his  taking  due  notice  of  the 
petty  details  of  life."  He  made  the  vicar  observe,  but 
without  appearing  to  censure  the  conduct  of  a  man 
whose  age  and  connections  deserved  all  respect,  that 
"  in  former  days,  recluses  thought  little  about  their  food 
and  lodging  in  the  solitude  of  their  retreats,  where  they 
were  lost  in  holy  contemplations,"  and  that  "  in  our 
days,  priests  could  make  a  retreat  for  themselves  in  the 
solitude  of  their  own  hearts."  Then,  reverting  to 
Birotteau's  affairs,  he  added  that  "  such  disagreements 
were  a  novelty  to  him.  For  twelve  years  nothing  of 
the  kind  had  occurred  between  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
and  the  venerable  Abbe  Chapeloud.  As  for  himself,  he 
might,  no  doubt,  be  an  arbitrator  between  the  vicar  and 
their  landlady,  because  his  friendship  for  that  person 
had   never  gone   beyond  the  limits   imposed  by  the 


284  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

Church  on  her  faithful  servants ;  but  if  so,  justice 
demanded  that  he  should  hear  both  sides.  He 
certainly  saw  no  change  in  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  who 
seemed  to  him  the  same  as  ever ;  he  had  always  sub- 
mitted to  a  few  of  her  caprices,  knowing  that  the  ex- 
cellent woman  was  kindness  and  gentleness  itself;  the 
slight  fluctuations  of  her  temper  should  be  attributed, 
he  thought,  to  sufferings  caused  by  a  pulmonary  affection, 
of  which  she  said  little,  resigning  herself  to  bear  them 
in  a  truly  Christian  spirit."  He  ended  by  assuring  the 
vicar  that "  if  he  stayed  a  few  years  longer  in  Made- 
moiselle Gamard's  house  he  would  learn  to  understand 
her  better  and  acknowledge  the  real  value  of  her 
excellent  nature." 

Birotteau  left  the  room  confounded.  In  the  direful 
necessity  of  consulting  no  one,  he  now  judged  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  as  he  would  himself,  and  the  poor 
man  fancied  that  if  he  left  her  house  for  a  few  days  he 
might  extinguish,  for  want  of  fuel,  the  dislike  the  old 
maid  felt  for  him.  He  accordingly  resolved  to  spend, 
as  he  formerly  did,  a  week  or  so  at  a  country-house 
where  Madame  de  Listomere  passed  her  autumns,  a 
season  when  the  sky  is  usually  pure  and  tender  in 
Touraine.  Poor  man !  in  so  doing  he  did  the  thing 
that  was  most  desired  by  his  terrible  enemy,  whose 
plans  could  only  have  been  brought  to  nought  by  the 
resistant  patience  of  a  monk.     But  the  vicar,  unable 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  285 

to  divine  them,  not  understanding  even  his  own  affairs, 
was  doomed  to  fall,  like  a  lamb,  at  the  butcher's  first 
blow. 

Madame  de  Listomere's  counts-place,  situated  on 
the  embankment  which  lies  between  Tours  and  the 
heights  of  Saint-Georges,  with  a  southern  exposure  and 
surrounded  by  rocks,  combined  the  charms  of  the 
county  with  the  pleasures  of  the  town.  It  took  but 
ten  minutes  from  the  bridge  of  Tours  to  reach  the 
house,  which  was  called  the  u  Alouette,"  —  a  great  ad- 
vantage in  a  region  where  no  one  will  put  himself 
out  for  an}'thing  whatsoever,  not  even  to  seek  a 
pleasure. 

The  Abbe  Birotteau  had  been  about  ten  days  at  the 
Alouette,  when,  one  morning  while  he  was  breakfasting, 
the  porter  came  to  say  that  Monsieur  Caron  desired  to 
speak  with  him.  Monsieur  Caron  was  Mademoiselle 
Gamard's  lawyer,  and  had  charge  of  her  affairs.  Birot- 
teau, not  remembering  this,  and  unable  to  think  of 
any  matter  of  litigation  between  himself  and  others, 
left  the  table  to  see  the  lawyer  in  a  state  of  great  agi- 
tation. He  found  him  modestly  seated  on  the  balus- 
trade of  a  terrace. 

"  Your  intention  of  ceasing  to  reside  in  Mademoi- 
selle Gamard's  house  being  made  evident — "  began 
the  man  of  business. 

"Eh!  monsieur,"  cried  the  Abbe  Birotteau,  inter- 


286  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

rupting  him,  "  I  have  not  the  slightest   intention  of 
leaving  it." 

"Nevertheless,  monsieur,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "}tou 
must  have  had  some  agreement  in  the  matter  with 
Mademoiselle,  for  she  has  sent  me  to  ask  how  long 
you  intend  to  remain  in  the  country.  The  event  of  a 
long  absence  was  not  foreseen  in  the  agreement,  and 
may  lead  to  a  contest.  Now,  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
understanding  that  your  board  —  " 

"Monsieur,"  said  Birotteau,  amazed,  and  again  in- 
terrupting the  lawyer,  "  I  did  not  suppose  it  necessary 
to  employ,  as  it  were,  legal  means  to  —  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  who  is  anxious  to  avoid 
all  dispute,"  said  Monsieur  Caron,  "  has  sent  me  to 
come  to  an  understanding  with  you." 

"Well,  if  3'ou  will  have  the  goodness  to  return  to- 
morrow," said  the  abbe,  u  I  shall  then  have  taken 
advice  in  the  matter." 

The  quill-driver  withdrew.  The  poor  vicar,  fright- 
ened at  the  persistence  with  which  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  pursued  him,  returned  to  the  dining-room 
with  his  face  so  convulsed  that  everybody  cried  out 
when  they  saw  him:  "What  is  the  matter,  Monsieur 
Birotteau  ?  " 

The  abbe,  in  despair,  sat  down  without  a  word,  so 
crushed  was  he  by  the  vague  presence  of  approaching 
disaster.     But  after  breakfast,  when  his  friends  gath- 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  287 

ered  round  him  before  a  comfortable  fire,  Birotteau 
naively  related  the  history  of  his  troubles.  His  hearers, 
who  were  beginning  to  weary  of  the  monoton}"  of  a 
country-house,  were  keenly  interested  in  a  plot  so 
thoroughly  in  keeping  with  the  life  of  the  provinces. 
They  all  took  sides  with  the  abbe"  against  the  old 
maid. 

"  Don't  you  see,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Madame  de 
Listomere,  "that  the  Abbe  Troubert  wants  your 
apartment  ?  " 

Here  the  historian  ought  to  sketch  this  lady ;  but  it 
occurs  to  him  that  even  those  who  are  ignorant  of 
Sterne's  system  of  cognomology,  cannot  pronounce  the 
three  words  "Madame  de  Listomere"  without  pictur- 
ing her  to  themselves  as  noble  and  dignified,  softening 
the  sternness  of  rigid  devotion  b}'  the  gracious  elegance 
and  the  courteous  manners  of  the  old  monarchical  re- 
gime;  kind,  but  a  little  stiff;  slightly  nasal  in  voice; 
allowing  herself  the  perusal  of  "  La  Nouvelle  H£16ise  ; " 
and  still  wearing  her  own  hair. 

"The  Abbe  Birotteau  must  not  yield  to  that  old 
vixen,"  cried  Monsieur  de  Listomere,  a  lieutenant  in 
the  navy  who  was  spending  a  furlough  with  his  aunt. 
"  If  the  vicar  has  pluck  and  will  follow  my  suggestions 
he  will  soon  recover  his  tranquillity." 

All  present  began  to  analyze  the  conduct  of  Made- 
moiselle Gamard   with   the    keen    perceptions    which 


288  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

characterize  provincials,  to  whom  no  one  can  deny  the 
talent  of  knowing  how  to  lay  bare  the  most  secret 
motives  of  human  actions. 

"You  don't  see  the  whole  thing  yet,"  said  an  old 
landowner  who  knew  the  region  well.  "  There  is 
something  serious  behind  all  this  which  I  can't  yet 
make  out.  The  Abbe*  Troubert  is  too  deep  to  be 
fathomed  at  once.  Our  dear  Birotteau  is  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  troubles.  Besides,  would  he  be  left  in 
peace  and  comfort  even  if  he  did  give  up  his  lodging  to 
Troubert?  I  doubt  it.  If  Caron  came  here  to  tell  you 
that  3tou  intended  to  leave  Mademoiselle  Gamard,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  bewildered  priest,  "  no  doubt 
Mademoiselle  Gamard's  intention  is  to  turn  you  out. 
Therefore  you  will  have  to  go,  whether  you  like  it  or 
not.  Her  sort  of  people  play  a  sure  game,  they  risk 
nothing." 

This  old  gentleman,  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  could 
sum  up  and  estimate  provincial  ideas  as  correct^  as 
Voltaire  summarized  the  spirit  of  his  times.  He  was 
thin  and  tall,  and  chose  to  exhibit  in  the  matter  of 
clothes  the  quiet  indifference  of  a  landowner  whose 
territorial  value  is  quoted  in  the  department.  His  face, 
tanned  by  the  Touraine  sun,  was  less  intellectual  than 
shrewd.  Accustomed  to  weigh  his  words  and  measure 
his  actions,  he  concealed  a  profound  vigilance  behind  a 
misleading  appearance  of  simplicit3- .     A  ver}T  slight  ob- 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  289 

servation  of  him  sufficed  to  show  that,  like  a  Norman 
peasant,  he  invariably  held  the  upper  hand  in  business 
matters.  He  was  an  authority  on  wine-making,  the 
leading  science  of  Touraine.  He  had  managed  to  ex- 
tend the  meadow  lands  of  his  domain  by  taking  in  a 
part  of  the  alluvial  soil  of  the  Loire  without  getting 
into  difficulties  with  the  State.  This  clever  proceeding 
gave  him  the  reputation  of  a  man  of  talent.  If  Mon- 
sieur de  Bourbon ne's  conversation  pleased  }Tou  and  you 
were  to  ask  who  he  was  of  a  Tourainean,  "Ho!  a 
sly  old  fox ! "  would  be  the  answer  of  those  who 
were  envious  of  him  —  and  they  were  many.  In 
Touraine,  as  in  many  of  the  provinces,  jealousjr  is  the 
root  of  language. 

Monsieur  de  Bourbonne's  remark  occasioned  a 
momentary  silence,  during  which  the  persons  who 
composed  the  little  party  seemed  to  be  reflecting. 
Meanwhile  Mademoiselle  Salomon  de  Villenoix  was 
announced.  She  came  from  Tours  in  the  hope  of 
being  useful  to  the  poor  abbe,  and  the  news  she 
brought  completely  changed  the  aspect  of  the  affair. 
As  she  entered,  every  one  except  Monsieur  de  Bour- 
bonne  was  urging  Birotteau  to  hold  his  own  against 
Troubert  and  Gamard,  under  the  auspices  of  the  aris- 
tocratic society  of  the  place,  which  would  certainly 
stand  by  him. 

"  The  vicar-general,  to   whom  the   appointments  to 

19 


290  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

office  are  entrusted,  is  very  ill,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Salomon,  4'  and  the  archbishop  has  delegated  his 
powers  to  the  Abbe"  Troubert  provisionally.  The  can- 
pajry  will,  of  course,  depend  wholly  upon  him.  Now 
last  evening,  at  Mademoiselle  de  la  Blottiere's  the 
Abbe*  Poirel  talked  about  the  annoyances  which  the 
Abbe*  Birotteau  had  inflicted  on  Mademoiselle  Gamard, 
as  though  he  were  trying  to  cast  all  the  blame  on  our 
good  abbe\  '  The  Abbe*  Birotteau,'  he  said,  S  is  a  man 
to  whom  the  Abbe*  Chapeloud  was  absolutely  necessary, 
and  since  the  death  of  that  venerable  man,  he  has 
shown  '  —  and  then  came  suggestions,  calumnies  !  you 
understand?" 

4 'Troubert  will  be  made  vicar-general,"  said  Mon- 
sieur de  Bourbonne,  sententiously. 

"Come!"  cried  Madame  de  Listomere,  turning  to 
Birotteau,  "  which  do  you  prefer,  to  be  made  a  canon, 
or  continue  to  live  with  Mademoiselle  Gamard  ?  " 

1 '  To  be  a  canon  ! "  cried  the  whole  company. 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  Madame  de  Listomere,  "}-ou 
must  let  the  Abbe  Troubert  and  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
have  things  their  own  way.  By  sending  Caron  here 
they  mean  to  let  you  know  indirectly  that  if  you  consent 
to  leave  the  house  j^ou  shall  be  made  canon,  —  one 
good  turn  deserves  another." 

Every  one  present  applauded  Madame  de  Listomere's 
sagacity,  except  her  nephew  the  Baron  de  Listomere, 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  291 

who  remarked  in  a  comic  tone  to  Monsieur  de  Bour- 
bonne,  "  I  would  like  to  have  Been  a  fight  between  the 
Gamard  and  the  Birotteau." 

But,  unhappily  for  the  vicar,  forces  were  not  equal 
between  these  persons  of  the  best  society  and  the  old 
maid  supported  by  the  Abbe"  Troubert.  The  time  soon 
came  when  the  struggle  developed  openly,  went  on  in- 
creasing, and  finally  assumed  immense  proportions.  By 
the  advice  of  Madame  de  Listomere  and  most  of  her 
friends,  who  were  now  eagerly  enlisted  in  a  matter 
which  threw  such  excitement  into  their  vapid  provincial 
lives,  a  servant  was  sent  to  bring  back  Monsieur  Caron. 
The  lawyer  returned  with  surprising  celerity,  which 
alarmed  no  one  but  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne. 

'*  Let  us  postpone  all  decision  until  we  are  better 
informed,"  was  the  advice  of  that  Fabius  in  a  dressing- 
gown,  whose  prudent  reflections  revealed  to  him  the 
meaning  of  these  moves  on  the  Tourainean  chess-board. 
He  tried  to  enlighten  Birotteau  on  the  dangers  of  his 
position;  but  the  wisdom  of  the  old  "sly-boots"  did 
not  serve  the  passions  of  the  moment,  and  he  obtained 
but  little  attention. 

The  conference  between  the  lawyer  and  Birotteau 
was  short.     The  vicar  came  back  quite  terrified. 

"  He  wants  me  to  sign  a  paper  stating  my  relinquish- 
ment of  domicile." 

"That's  formidable  language!"  said  the  naval 
lieutenant. 


292  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

44  What  does  it  mean?  "  asked  Madame  de  Listomere. 

44  Merely  that  the  abbe"  must  declare  in  writing  his 
intention  of  leaving  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  house," 
said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

44  Is  that  all?"  said  Madame  de  Listomere.  4i Then 
sign  it  at  once,"  she  added,  turning  to  Birotteau.  44  If 
you  positively  decide  to  leave  her  house,  there  can  be 
no  harm  in  declaring  in  writing  that  such  is  your  will." 

Birotteau1  s  will  / 

44  That  is  true,"  said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  closing 
his  snuff-box  with  a  gesture  the  significance  of  which  it 
is  impossible  to  render,  for  it  was  a  language  in  itself. 
44  But  writing  is  always  dangerous,"  he  added,  putting 
his  snuff-box  on  the  mantelpiece  with  an  air  and  man- 
ner that  alarmed  the  vicar. 

Birotteau  was  so  bewildered  by  the  upsetting  of  all 
his  ideas,  by  the  rapidity  of  the  events  which  found  him 
defenceless,  by  the  ease  with  which  his  friends  were 
settling  the  most  cherished  matters  of  his  solitary  life, 
that  he  remained  silent  and  motionless  as  if  moon- 
struck, thinking  of 'nothing,  though  listening  and  striv- 
ing to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  rapid  sentences 
the  assembled  company  addressed  to  him.  He  took  the 
paper  Monsieur  Caron  had  given  him  and  read  it,  as  if 
he  were  giving  his  mind  to  the  lawyer's  document,  but 
the  act  was  merely  mechanical.  He  signed  the  paper, 
by   which    he    declared    that    he    left    Mademoiselle 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  293 

Gamard's  house  of  his  own  wish  and  will,  and  that  he 
had  been  fed  and  lodged  while  there  according  to  the 
terms  originally  agreed  upon.  When  the  vicar  had 
signed  the  document,  Monsieur  Caron  took  it  and 
asked  where  his  client  was  to  send  the  things  left  by 
the  abbe"  in  her  house  and  belonging  to  him.  Birotteau 
replied  that  they  could  be  sent  to  Madame  de  Listo- 
mere's,  —  that  lady  making  him  a  sign  that  she  would 
receive  him,  never  doubting  that  he  would  soon  be  a 
canon.  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  asked  to  see  the  paper, 
the  deed  of  relinquishment,  which  the  abbe"  had  just 
signed.     Monsieur  Caron  gave  it  to  him. 

"  How  is  this?  "  he  said  to  the  vicar  after  reading  it. 
"  It  appears  that  written  documents  already  exist  be- 
tween you  and  Mademoiselle  Gamard.  Where  are 
they  ?  and  what  do  they  stipulate  ?  " 

"  The  deed  is  in  my  library,"  replied  Birotteau. 

11  Do  you  know  the  tenor  of  it?"  said  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne  to  the  lawyer. 

"  No,  monsieur,"  said  Caron,  stretching  out  his  hand 
to  regain  the  fatal  document. 

"  Ha !  "  thought  the  old  man  ;  "  you  know,  my  good 
friend,  what  that  deed  contains,  but  you  are  paid  not 
to  tell  us,"  and  he  returned  the  paper  to  the  lawyer. 

"Where  can  I  put  my  things?"  cried  Birotteau; 
11  my  books,  m}'  beautiful  book-shelves,  and  pictures, 
my  red  furniture,  and  all  my  treasures  ?  " 


294  TJie   Vicar  of  Tours. 

The  helpless  despair  of  the  poor  man  thus  torn  up  as 
it  were  by  the  roots  was  so  artless,  it  showed  so 
plainly  the  puritj-  of  his  ways  and  his  ignorance  of  the 
things  of  life,  that  Madame  de  Listomere  and  Made- 
moiselle Salomon  talked  to  him  and  consoled  him  in 
the  tone  which  mothers  take  when  they  promise  a  play- 
thing to  their  children. 

u  Don't  fret  about  such  trifles,"  they  said.  "  We  will 
find  you  some  place  less  cold  and  dismal  than  Made- 
moiselle Gamard's  gloomy  house.  If  we  can't  find 
anything  you  like,  one  or  other  of  us  will  take  }'Ou  to 
live  with  us.  Come,  let 's  play  a  game  of  backgammon. 
To-morrow  you  can  go  and  see  the  Abbe  Troubert  and 
ask  him  to  push  your  claims  to  the  canonry,  and  you'll 
see  how  cordially  he  will  receive  you." 

Feeble  folk  are  as  easily  reassured  as  they  are  fright- 
ened. So  the  poor  abbe\  dazzled  at  the  prospect  of 
living  with  Madame  de  Listomere,  forgot  the  destruc- 
tion, now  completed,  of  the  happiness  he  had  so  long 
desired,  and  so  delightfully  enjoyed.  But  at  night 
before  going  to  sleep,  the  distress  of  a  man  to  whom 
the  fuss  of  moving  and  the  breaking  up  of  all  his  habits 
was  like  the  end  of  the  world,  came  upon  him,  and  he 
racked  his  brains  to  imagine  how  he  could  ever  find 
such  a  good  place  for  his  book-case  as  the  gallery  in 
the  old  maid's  house.  Fancying  he  saw  his  books 
scattered  about,  his  furniture  defaced,  his  regular  life 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  295 

turned  topsy-turvy,  he  asked  himself  for  the  thousandth 
time  why  the  first  year  spent  in  Mademoiselle  Gamard's 
house  had  been  so  sweet,  the  second  so  cruel.  His 
troubles  were  a  pit  in  which  his  reason  floundered. 
The  canonry  seemed  to  him  small  compensation  for 
so  much  misery,  and  he  compared  his  life  to  a  stocking 
in  which  a  single  dropped  stitch  resulted  in  destroying 
the  whole  fabric.  Mademoiselle  Salomon  remained  to 
him.  But  alas,  in  losing  his  old  illusions  the  poor 
priest  dared  not  trust  in  any  later  friendship. 

In  the  citta  dolente  of  spinsterhood  we  often  meet, 
especially  in  France,  with  women  whose  lives  are 
a  sacrifice  nobly  and  daily  offered  to  noble  senti- 
ments. Some  remain  proudly  faithful  to  a  heart  which 
death  tore  from  them ;  martyrs  of  love,  they  learn  the 
secrets  of  womanhood  only  through  their  souls.  Others 
obey  some  family  pride  (which  in  our  days,  and  to  our 
shame,  decreases  steadily)  ;  these  devote  themselves 
to  the  welfare  of  a  brother,  or  to  orphan  nephews ; 
they  are  mothers  while  remaining  virgins.  Such  old 
maids  attain  to  the  highest  heroism  of  their  sex  by 
consecrating  all  feminine  feelings  to  the  help  of  sorrow. 
They  idealize  womanhood  by  renouncing  the  rewards 
of  woman's  destiny,  accepting  its  pains.  They  live 
surrounded  b}'  the  splendor  of  their  devotion,  and  men 
respectfully  bow  the  head  before  their  faded  features. 
Mademoiselle  de  Sombreuil  was  neither  wife  nor  maid  ; 


296  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

she  was  and  ever  will  be  a  living  poem.  Mademoiselle 
Salomon  de  Villenoix  belonged  to  the  race  of  these 
heroic  beings.  Her  devotion  was  religiously  sublime, 
inasmuch  as  it  won  her  no  glory  after  being,  for  years, 
a  daily  agony.  Beautiful  and  young,  she  loved  and  was 
beloved  ;  her  lover  lost  his  reason.  For  five  years  she 
gave  herself,  with  love's  devotion,  to  the  mere  mechani- 
cal well-being  of  that  unhapp}*  man,  whose  madness  she 
so  penetrated  that  she  never  believed  him  mad.  She 
was  simple  in  manner,  frank  in  speech,  and  her  pallid 
face  was  not  lacking  in  strength  and  character,  though 
its  features  were  regular.  She  never  spoke  of  the  events 
of  her  life.  But  at  times  a  sudden  quiver  passed  over 
her  as  she  listened  to  the  story  of  some  sad  or  dreadful 
incident,  thus  betraying  the  emotions  that  great  suffer- 
ings had  developed  within  her.  She  had  come  to  live 
at  Tours  after  losing  the  companion  of  her  life  ;  but  she 
was  not  appreciated  there  at  her  true  value  and  was 
thought  to  be  merely  an  amiable  woman.  She  did  much 
good,  and  attached  herself,  by  preference,  to  feeble  be- 
ings. For  that  reason  the  poor  vicar  had  naturally 
inspired  her  with  a  deep  interest. 

Mademoiselle  de  Villenoix,  who  returned  to  Tours 
the  next  morning,  took  Birotteau  with  her  and  set 
him  down  on  the  quay  of  the  cathedral  leaving  him  to 
make  his  own  way  to  the  Cloister,  where  he  was  bent  on 
going,  to  save  at  least  the  canonry  and  to  superintend 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  297 

the  removal  of  his  furniture.  He  rang,  not  without 
violent  palpitations  of  the  heart,  at  the  door  of  the 
house  whither,  for  fourteen  years,  he  had  come  dairy, 
and  where  he  had  lived  blissfully,  and  from  which  he 
was  now  exiled  forever,  after  dreaming  that  he  should 
die  there  in  peace  like  his  friend  Chapeloud.  Marianne 
was  surprised  at  the  vicar's  visit.  He  told  her  that  he 
had  come  to  see  the  Abbe  Troubert,  and  turned  towards 
the  ground-floor  apartment  where  the  canon  lived  ;  but 
Marianne  called  to  him  :  — 

"  Not  there,  monsieur  le  vicaire  ;  the  Abbe*  Troubert 
is  in  your  old  apartment." 

These  words  gave  the  vicar  a  frightful  shock.  He 
was  forced  to  comprehend  both  Troubert's  character 
and  the  depths  of  the  revenge  so  slowly  brought  about 
when  he  found  the  canon  settled  in  Chapeloud's  libraiy, 
seated  in  Chapeloud's  handsome  armchair,  sleeping,  no 
doubt,  in  Chapeloud's  bed,  and  disinheriting  at  last  the 
friend  of  Chapeloud,  the  man  who,  for  so  many  j^ears, 
had  confined  him  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  house,  by 
preventing  his  advancement  in  the  church,  and  closing 
the  best  salons  in  Tours  against  him.  By  what  magic 
wand  had  the  present  transformation  taken  place? 
Surely  these  things  belonged  to  Birotteau?  And  yet, 
observing  the  sardonic  air  with  which  Troubert  glanced 
at  that  bookcase,  the  poor  abbe*  knew  that  the  future 
vicar-general  felt  certain  of  possessing  the  spoils  of  those 


298  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

he  had  so  bitterly  hated,  —  Chapeloud  as  an  enemy,  and 
Birotteau,  in  and  through  whom  Chapeloud  still  thwarted 
him.  Ideas  arose  in  the  heart  of  the  poor  man  at  the 
sight,  and  plunged  him  into  a  sort  of  vision.  He  stood 
motionless,  as  though  fascinated  by  Troubert's  eyes 
which  fixed  themselves  upon  him. 

"I  do  not  suppose,  monsieur,"  said  Birotteau  at 
last,  "  that  you  intend  to  deprive  me  of  the  things  that 
belong  to  me.  Mademoiselle  may  have  been  impatient 
to  give  you  better  lodgings,  but  she  ought  to  have  been 
sufficiently  just  to  leave  me  time  to  pack  my  books  and 
remove  my  furniture." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  Abb6  Troubert,  coldly,  not 
permitting  an}7  sign  of  emotion  to  appear  on  his  face, 
"  Mademoiselle  Gamard  told  me  yesterday  of  your  de- 
parture, the  cause  of  which  is  still  unknown  to  me.  If 
she  installed  me  here  at  once,  it  was  from  necessity. 
The  Abbe*  Poirel  has  taken  my  apartment.  I  do  not 
know  if  the  furniture  and  things  that  are  in  these  rooms 
belong  to  you  or  to  Mademoiselle ;  but  if  they  are 
yours,  you  know  her  scrupulous  honesty ;  the  sanctity 
of  her  life  is  the  guarantee  of  her  rectitude.  As  for  me, 
you  are  well  aware  of  my  simple  modes  of  living.  I 
have  slept  for  fifteen  years  in  a  bare  room  without  com- 
plaining of  the  dampness,  — which,  eventually,  will  have 
caused  my  death.  Nevertheless,  if  you  wish  to  return 
to  this  apartment  I  will  cede  it  to  you  willingly." 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  299 

After  hearing  these  terrible  words,  Birotteau  forgot 
the  canonry  and  ran  downstairs  as  quickly  as  a  3'Oung 
man  to  find  Mademoiselle  Gamard.  He  met  her  at  the 
foot  of  the  staircase,  on  the  broad,  tiled  landing  which 
united  the  two  wings  of  the  house. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  bowing  to  her  without 
paying  any  attention  to  the  bitter  and  derisive  smile 
that  was  on  her  lips,  nor  to  the  extraordinary  flame  in 
her  eyes  which  made  them  lucent  as  a  tiger's,  ' i  I  can- 
not understand  how  it  is  that  you  have  not  waited  until 
I  removed  my  furniture  before  —  " 

"What!"  she  said,  interrupting  him,  "is  it  pos- 
sible that  your  things  have  not  been  left  at  Madame  de 
Listomere's  ?  " 

"But  my  furniture?" 

"  Have  n't  you  read  your  deed?"  said  the  old  maid, 
in  a  tone  which  would  have  to  be  rendered  in  music 
before  the  shades  of  meaning  that  hatred  is  able  to  put 
into  the  accent  of  every  word  could  be  fully  shown. 

Mademoiselle  Gamard  seemed  to  rise  in  stature,  her 
eyes  shone,  her  face  expanded,  her  whole  person 
quivered  with  pleasure.  The  Abbe*  Troubert  opened  a 
window  to  get  a  better  light  on  the  folio  volume  he  was 
reading.  Birotteau  stood  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had 
stricken  him.  Mademoiselle  Gamard  made  his  ears 
hum  when  she  enunciated  in  a  voice  as  clear  as  a 
cornet  the  following  sentence  :  — 


300  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

"  Was  it  not  agreed  that  if  you  left  my  house  your 
furniture  should  belong  to  me,  to  indemnify  me  for  the 
difference  in  the  price  of  board  paid  by  you  and  that 
paid  by  the  late  venerable  Abbe*  Chapeloud  ?  Now,  as 
the  Abbe*  Poirel  has  just  been  appointed  canon  —  " 

Hearing  the  last  words  Birotteau  made  a  feeble  bow 
as  if  to  take  leave  of  the  old  maid,  and  left  the  house 
precipitately.  He  was  afraid  if  he  stayed  longer  that 
he  should  break  down  utterly,  and  give  too  great  a 
triumph  to  his  implacable  enemies.  "Walking  like  a 
drunken  man  he  at  last  reached  Madame  de  Listomere's 
house,  where  he  found  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms  his 
linen,  his  clothing,  and  all  his  papers  packed  in  a 
trunk.  When  his  eyes  fell  on  these  few  remnants  of 
his  possessions  the  unhappy  priest  sat  down  and  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands  to  conceal  his  tears  from  the 
sight  of  others.  The  Abbe*  Poirel  was  canon !  He, 
Birotteau,  had  neither  home,  nor  means,  nor  furniture  ! 

Fortunately  Mademoiselle  Salomon  happened  to 
drive  past  the  house,  and  the  porter,  who  saw  and 
comprehended  the  despair  of  the  poor  abbe\  made  a 
sign  to  the  coachman.  After  exchanging  a  few  words 
with  Mademoiselle  Salomon  the  porter  persuaded  the 
vicar  to  let  himself  be  placed,  half  dead  as  he  was,  in 
the  carriage  of  his  faithful  friend,  to  whom  he  was 
unable  to  speak  connectedly.  Mademoiselle  Salomon, 
alarmed  at  the  momentary  derangement  of  a  head  that 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  301 

was  always  feeble,  took  hitn  back  at  once  to  the 
Alouette,  believing  that  this  beginning  of  mental 
alienation  was  an  effect  produced  by  the  sudden  news 
of  Abbe*  Poirel's  nomination.  She  knew  nothing,  of 
course,  of  the  fatal  agreement  made  by  the  abbe*  with 
Mademoiselle  Gamard,  for  the  excellent  reason  that  he 
did  not  know  of  it  himself;  and  because  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  things  that  the  comical  is  often  mingled 
with  the  pathetic,  the  singular  replies  of  the  poor  abbe 
made  her  smile. 

"  Chapeloud  was  right,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  a  monster ! " 

"Who?"  she  asked. 

"  Chapeloud.     He  has  taken  all.** 

"  You  mean  Poirel?  " 

"  No,  Troubert" 

At  last  the}'  reached  the  Alouette,  where  the  priest's 
friends  gave  him  such  tender  care  that  towards  even- 
ing he  grew  calmer  and  was  able  to  give  them  an 
account  of  what  had  happened  during  the  morning. 

The  phlegmatic  old  fox  asked  to  see  the  deed  which, 
on  thinking  the  matter  over,  seemed  to  him  to  contain 
the  solution  of  the  enigma.  Birotteau  drew  the  fatal 
stamped  paper  from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  Monsieur 
de  Bourbonne,  who  read  it  rapidlj-  and  soon  came  upon 
the  following  clause  :  — 

11  Whereas  a  difference  exists  of  eight  hundred  francs 
yearly  between  the  price  of  board  paid  by  the  late  Abbe 


302  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

Chapeloud  and  that  at  which  the  said  Sophie  Gamard 
agrees  to  take  into  her  house,  on  the  above-named 
stipulated  conditions,  the  said  Francois  Birotteau ; 
and  whereas  it  is  understood  that  the  undersigned 
Francois  Birotteau  is  not  able  for  some  years  to  pay 
the  full  price  charged  to  the  other  boarders  of  Ma- 
demoiselle Gamard,  more  especially  the  Abbe  Trou- 
bert ;  the  said  Birotteau  does  hereby  engage,  in  con- 
sideration of  certain  sums  of  money  advanced  by  the 
undersigned  Sophie  Gamard,  to  leave  her,  as  indem- 
nity, all  the  household  property  of  which  he  may  die 
possessed,  or  to  transfer  the  same  to  her  should  he, 
for  any  reason  whatever  or  at  any  time,  voluntarily 
give  up  the  apartment  now  leased  to  him,  and  thus 
derive  no  further  profit  from  the  above-named  engage- 
ments made  by  Mademoiselle  Gamard  for  his  benefit  —  " 

"  Confound  her !  what  an  agreement !  "  cried  the  old 
gentleman.  "The  said  Sophie  Gamard  is  armed  with 
claws." 

Poor  Birotteau  never  imagined  in  his  childish  brain 
that  anything  could  ever  separate  him  from  that  house 
where  he  expected  to  live  and  die  with  Mademoiselle 
Gamard.  He  had  no  remembrance  whatever  of  that 
clause,  the  terms  of  which  he  had  not  discussed,  for 
they  had  seemed  quite  just  to  him  at  a  time  when,  in 
his  great  anxiety  to  enter  the  old  maid's  house,  he 
would  readily  have  signed  any  and  all  legal  documents 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  303 

she  had  offered  him.  His  simplicity  was  so  guileless 
and  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  conduct  so  atrocious,  the 
fate  of  the  poor  old  man  seemed  so  deplorable,  and 
his  natural  helplessness  made  him  so  touching,  that  in 
the  first  glow  of  her  indignation  Madame  de  Listomere 
exclaimed:  "I  made  you  put  your  signature  to  that 
document  which  has  ruined  you ;  I  am  bound  to  give 
you  back  the  happiness  of  which  I  have  deprived 
you." 

44  But,"  remarked  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  "  that 
deed  constitutes  a  fraud ;  there  may  be  ground  for  a 
lawsuit." 

"Then  Birotteau  shall  go  to  law.  If  he  loses  at 
Tours  he  may  win  at  Orleans ;  if  he-  loses  at  Orleans, 
he  '11  win  in  Paris,"  cried  the  Baron  de  Listomere. 

H  But  if  he  does  go  to  law,"  continued  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne,  coldly,  M  I  should  advise  him  to  resign  his 
vicariat." 

"  We  will  consult  law3'ers,"  said  Madame  de  Listo- 
mere, "  and  go  to  law  if  law  is  best.  But  this  affair  is 
so  disgraceful  for  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  and  is  likely 
to  be  so  injurious  to  the  Abbe*  Troubert,  that  I  think 
we  can  compromise." 

After  mature  deliberation  all  present  promised  their 
assistance  to  the  Abbe  Birotteau  in  the  struggle  which 
was  now  inevitable  between  the  poor  priest  and  his 
antagonists  and  all  their  adherents.     A  true  presenti- 


304  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

ment,  an  indefinable  provincial  instinct,  led  them  to 
couple  the  names  of  Gamard  and  Troubert.  But  none 
of  the  persons  assembled  on  this  occasion  in  Madame 
de  Listomere's  salon,  except  the  old  fox,  had  any  real 
idea  of  the  nature  and  importance  of  such  a  struggle. 
Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  took  the  poor  abbe  aside  into 
a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Of  the  fourteen  persons  now  present,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  '*  not  one  will  stand  by  jTou  a  fortnight 
hence.  If  the  time  comes  when  you  need  some  one  to 
support  you  you  may  find  that  I  am  the  only  person 
in  Tours  bold  enough  to  take  up  your  defence ;  for  I 
know  the  provinces  and  men  and  things,  and,  better 
still,  I  know  self-interests.  But  these  friends  of  yours, 
though  full  of  the  best  intentions,  are  leading  you 
astray  into  a  bad  path,  from  which  you  won't  be  able 
to  extricate  yourself.  Take  my  advice ;  if  you  want 
to  live  in  peace,  resign  the  vicariat  of  Saint-Gatien  and 
leave  Tours.  Don't  say  where  you  are  going,  but  find 
some  distant  parish  where  Troubert  cannot  get  hold 
of  you." 

"  Leave  Tours  !  "  exclaimed  the  vicar,  with  indescrib- 
able terror. 

To  him  it  was  a  kind  of  death  ;  the  tearing  up  of 
all  the  roots  by  which  he  held  to  life.  Celibates  sub- 
stitute habits  for  feelings  ;  and  when  to  that  moral  sys- 
tem, which  makes  them  pass  through  life  instead  of  really 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  "       305 

living,  is  added  a  feeble  character,  external  things  as- 
sume an  extraordinary  power  over  them.  Birotteau  was 
like  certain  vegetables ;  transplant  them,  and  you  stop 
their  ripening.  Just  as  a  tree  needs  daily  the  same  sus- 
tenance, and  must  always  send  its  roots  into  the  same 
soil,  so  Birotteau  needed  to  trot  about  Saint-Gatien, 
and  amble  along  the  Mail  where  he  took  his  daily 
walk,  and  saunter  through  the  streets,  and  visit  the 
three  salons  where,  night  after  night,  he  played  his 
whist  or  his  backgammon. 

"  Ah !  I  did  not  think  of  it!  "  replied  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne,  gazing  at  the  priest  with  a  sort  of  pity. 

All  Tours  was  soon  aware  that  Madame  la  Baronne 
de  Listomere,  widow  of  a  lieutenant-general,  had  in- 
vited the  Abbe"  Birotteau,  vicar  of  Saint-Gatien,  to  stay 
at  her  house.  That  act,  which  many  persons  ques- 
tioned, presented  the  matter  sharply  and  divided  the 
town  into  parties,  especially  after  Mademoiselle  Salo- 
mon spoke  openly  of  fraud  and  a  lawsuit.  With  the 
subtle  vanity  which  is  common  to  old  maids,  and  the 
fanatic  self-love  which  characterizes  them,  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  was  deeply  wounded  by  the  course  taken  by 
Madame  de  Listomere.  The  baroness  was  a  woman 
of  high  rank,  elegant  in  her  habits  and  ways,  whose 
good  taste,  courteous  manners,  and  true  piety  could 
not  be  gainsaid.  By  receiving  Birotteau  as  her  guest 
she  gave  a  formal  denial  to  all  Mademoiselle  Gamard's 
20 


306       •  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

assertions,  and  indirectly  censured  her  conduct  by  main- 
taining the  vicar's  cause  against  his  former  landlady. 

It  is  necessary  for  the  full  understanding  of  this  his- 
tory to  explain  how  the  natural  discernment  and  spirit 
of  analysis  which  old  women  bring  to  bear  on  the 
actions  of  others  gave  power  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard, 
and  what  were  the  resources  on  her  side.  Accom- 
panied by  the  taciturn  Abb6  Troubert  she  made  a 
round  of  evening  visits  to  five  or  six  houses,  at  each 
of  which  she  met  a  circle  of  a  dozen  or  more  persons, 
united  by  kindred  tastes  and  the  same  general  situation 
in  life.  Among  them  were  one  or  two  men  who  were 
influenced  by  the  gossip  and  prejudices  of  their  ser- 
vants ;  five  or  six  old  maids  who  spent  their  time  in 
sifting  the  words  and  scrutinizing  the  actions  of  their 
neighbors  and  others  in  the  class  below  them  ;  besides 
these,  there  were  several  old  women  who  busied  them- 
selves in  retailing  scandal,  keeping  an  exact  account  of 
each  person's  fortune,  striving  to  control  or  influence 
the  actions  of  others,  prognosticating  marriages,  and 
blaming  the  conduct  of  friends  as  sharply  as  that  of 
enemies.  These  persons,  spread  about  the  town  like 
the  capillary  fibres  of  a  plant,  sucked  in,  with  the  thirst 
of  a  leaf  for  the  dew,  the  news  and  the  secrets  of  each 
household,  and  transmitted  them  mechanically  to  the 
Abbe"  Troubert,  as  the  leaves  convey  to  the  branch  the 
moisture  they  absorb. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  307 

Accordingly,  during  every  evening  of  the  week, 
these  good  devotees,  excited  by  that  need  of  emotion 
which  exists  in  all  of  us,  rendered  an  exact  account  of 
the  current  condition  of  the  town  with  a  sagacity 
worthy  of  the  Council  of  Ten,  and  were,  in  fact,  a 
species  of  police,  armed  with  the  unerring  gift  of  spy- 
ing bestowed  by  passions.  When  they  had  divined 
the  secret  meaning  of  some  event  their  vanity  led  them 
to  appropriate  to  themselves  the  wisdom  of  their  san- 
hedrim, and  set  the  tone  to  the  gossip  of  their  respec- 
tive spheres.  This  idle  but  ever  busy  fraternity, 
invisible,  yet  seeing  all  things,  dumb,  but  perpetually 
talking,  possessed  an  influence  which  its  nonentity 
seemed  to  render  harmless,  though  it  was  in  fact  ter- 
rible in  its  effects  when  it  concerned  itself  with  serious 
interests.  For  a  long  time  nothing  had  entered  the 
sphere  of  these  existences  so  serious  and  so  momen- 
tous to  each  one  of  them  as  the  struggle  of  Birotteau, 
supported  by  Madame  de  Listomere,  against  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  and  the  Abbe  Troubert.  The  three 
salons  of  Madame  de  Listomere  and  the  Demoiselles 
Merlin  de  la  Blottiere  and  de  Villenoix  being  consid- 
ered as  enemies  by  all  the  salons  which  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  frequented,  there  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
quarrel  a  class  sentiment  with  all  its  jealousies.  It 
was  the  old  Roman  struggle  of  people  and  senate  in  a 
molehill,   a   tempest  in  a  teacup,  as  Montesquieu  re- 


308  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

marked  when  speaking  of  the  Republic  of  San  Marino, 
whose  public  offices  are  filled  by  the  day  only,  —  des- 
potic power  being  easily  seized  by  any  citizen. 

But  this  tempest,  petty  as  it  seems,  did  develop  in 
the  souls  of  these  persons  as  many  passions  as  would 
have  been  called  forth  by  the  highest  social  interests. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  none  but  souls  concerned 
In  might}r  projects,  which  stir  their  lives  and  set  them 
foaming,  find  time  too  fleeting.  The  hours  of  the  Abbe* 
Troubert  fled  by  as  eagerty,  laden  with  thoughts  as 
anxious,  harassed  by  despairs  and  hopes  as  deep  as 
the  cruellest  hours  of  the  gambler,  the  lover,  or  the 
statesman.  God  alone  is  in  the  secret  of  the  energy 
we  expend  upon  our  occult  triumphs  over  man,  over 
things,  over  ourselves.  Though  we  know  not  always 
whither  we  are  going  we  know  well  what  the  journey 
costs  us.  If  it  be  permissible  for  the  historian  to  turn 
aside  for  a  moment  from  the  drama  he  is  narrating 
and  ask  his  readers  to  cast  a  glance  upon  the  lives  of 
these  old  maids  and  abb6s,  and  seek  the  cause  of  the 
evil  which  vitiates  them  at  their  source,  we  may  find  it 
demonstrated  that  man  must  experience  certain  pas- 
sions before  he  can  develop  within  him  those  virtues 
which  give  grandeur  to  life  by  widening  his  sphere  and 
checking  the  selfishness  which  is  inherent  in  every 
created  being. 

Madame    de    Listomere  returned   to  town   without 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  309 

being  aware  that  for  the  previous  week  her  friends  had 
felt  obliged  to  refute  a  rumor  (at  which  she  would 
have  laughed  had  she  known  of  it)  that  her  affection 
for  her  nephew  had  an  almost  criminal  motive.  She 
took  Birotteau  to  her  lawyer,  who  did  not  regard  the 
case  as  an  eas}T  one.  The  vicar's  friends,  inspired  by 
the  belief  that  justice  was  certain  in  so  good  a  cause, 
or  inclined  to  procrastinate  in  a  matter  whioh  did  not 
concern  them  personally,  had  put  off  bringing  the  suit 
until  they  returned  to  Tours.  Consequently  the  friends 
of  Mademoiselle  Gamard  had  taken  the  initiative,  and 
told  the  affair  wherever  they  could  to  the  injury  of  Bi- 
rotteau. The  lawyer,  whose  practice  was  exclusively 
among  the  most  devout  church  people,  amazed  Madame 
de  Listomere  b}T  advising  her  not  to  embark  on  such  a 
suit;  he  ended  the  consultation  by  saying  that  "he 
himself  would  not  undertake  it,  for,  according  to  the 
terms  of  the  deed,  Mademoiselle  Gamard  had  the  law 
on  her  side,  and  in  equity,  that  is  to  say  outside  of 
strict  legal  justice,  the  Abbe"  Birotteau  would  un- 
doubtedly seem  to  the  judges  as  well  as  to  all  respect- 
able laymen  to  have  derogated  from  the  peaceable, 
conciliatory,  and  mild  character  hitherto  attributed  to 
him  ;  that  Mademoiselle  Gamard,  known  to  be  a  kindly 
woman  and  easy  to  live  with,  had  put  Birotteau  under 
obligations  to  her  by  lending  him  the  money  he  needed 
to  pay  the  legacy  duties  on  Chapeloud's  bequest  with- 


310  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

out  taking  from  him  a  receipt ;  that  Birotteau  was  not 
of  an  age  or  character  to  sign  a  deed  without  knowing 
what  it  contained  or  understanding  the  importance  of 
it ;  that  in  leaving  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  house  at  the 
end  of  two  years,  when  his  friend  Chapeloud  had  lived 
there  twelve  and  Troubert  fifteen,  he  must  have  had 
some  purpose  known  to  himself  only ;  and  that  the 
lawsuit,  if  undertaken,  would  strike  the  public  mind  as 
an  act  of  ingratitude  ;  "  and  so  forth.  Letting  Birotteau 
go  before  them  to  the  staircase,  the  lawyer  detained 
Madame  de  Listomere  a  moment  to  entreat  her,  if  she 
valued  her  own  piece  of  mind,  not  to  involve  herself  in 
the  matter. 

But  that  evening  the  poor  vicar,  suffering  the  tor- 
ments of  a  man  under  sentence  of  death  who  awaits  in 
the  condemned  cell  at  Bicetre  the  result  of  his  appeal 
for  merc}r,  could  not  refrain  from  telling  his  assembled 
friends  the  result  of  his  visit  to  the  lawyer. 

"I  don't  know  a  single  pettifogger  in  Tours,"  said 
Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  "  except  that  Radical  law- 
yer, who  would  be  willing  to  take  the  case,  —  unless 
for  the  purpose  of  losing  it;  I  don't  advise  you  to 
undertake  it." 

"  Then  it  is  infamous ! n  cried  the  naval  lieutenant. 
"  I  myself  will  take  the  abbe"  to  the  Radical  —  " 

"  Go  at  night,"  said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  inter- 
rupting him. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  311 

"Why?" 

"I  have  just  learned  that  the  Abbe*  Troubert  is  ap- 
pointed vicar-general  in  place  of  the  other  man,  who 
died  yesterday." 

"  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  the  Abbe"  Troubert." 

Unfortunately  the  Baron  de  Listomere  (a  man  thirty- 
six  years  of  age)  did  not  see  the  sign  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne  made  him  to  be  cautious  in  what  he  said, 
motioning  as  he  did  so  to  a  friend  of  Troubert,  a 
councillor  of  the  Prefecture,  who  was  present.  The 
lieutenant  therefore  continued  :  — 

"  If  the  Abbe  Troubert  is  a  scoundrel  —  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  cutting  him 
short,  "  wiry  bring  Monsieur  Troubert  into  a  matter 
which  does  n't  concern  him  ?  " 

"  Not  concern  him?"  cried  the  baron;  "isn't  he 
enjoying  the  use  of  the  Abbe  Birotteau's  household 
property  ?  I  remember  that  when  I  called  on  the  Abbe" 
Chapeloud  I  noticed  two  valuable  pictures.  Saj'  that 
they  are  worth  ten  thousand  francs ;  do  jou  suppose 
that  Monsieur  Birotteau  meant  to  give  ten  thousand 
francs  for  living  two  }'ears  with  that  Gamard  woman,  — 
not  to  speak  of  the  library  and  furniture,  which  are 
worth  as  much  more  ? " 

The  Abb6  Birotteau  opened  his  eyes  at  hearing  he 
had  once  possessed  so  enormous  a  fortune. 

The  baron,  getting   warmer  than  ever,  went  on  to 


312  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

say:  "By  Jove!  there's  that  Monsieur  Salmon, 
formerly  an  expert  at  the  Museum  in  Paris  ;  he  is  down 
here  on  a  visit  to  his  mother-in-law.  I  '11  go  and  see 
him  this  very  evening  with  the  Abbe*  Birotteau  and  ask 
him  to  look  at  those  pictures  and  estimate  their  value. 
From  there  I  '11  take  the  abbe*  to  the  lawyer." 

Two  days  after  this  conversation  the  suit  was  begun. 
This  employment  of  the  Liberal  lawyer  did  harm  to  the 
vicar's  cause.  Those  who  were  opposed  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  all  who  were  known  to  dislike  the  priests,  or 
religion  (two  things  quite  distinct  which  many  persons 
confound),  got  hold  of  the  affair  and  the  whole  town 
talked  of  it.  The  Museum  expert  estimated  the  Virgin 
of  Valentin  and  the  Christ  of  Lebrun,  two  paintings  of 
great  beauty,  at  eleven  thousand  francs.  As  to  the 
bookshelves  and  the  gothic  furniture,  the  taste  for  such 
things  was  increasing  so  rapidly  in  Paris  that  their 
immediate  value  was  at  least  twelve  thousand.  In 
short,  the  appraisal  of  the  whole  property  by  the  expert 
reached  the  sum  of  over  thirty-six  thousand  francs. 
Now  it  was  very  evident  that  Birotteau  never  intended 
to  give  Mademoiselle  Gamard  such  an  enormous  sum 
of  money  for  the  small  amount  he  might  owe  her  under 
the  terms  of  the  deed ;  therefore  he  had,  legally 
speaking,  equitable  grounds  on  which  to  demand  an 
amendment  of  the  agreement ;  if  this  were  denied, 
Mademoiselle  Gamard  was  plainly  guilt}'  of  intentional 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  313 

fraud.  The  Radical  lawyer  accordingly  began  the 
affair  by  serving  a  writ  on  Mademoiselle  Gamard. 
Though  very  harsh  in  language,  this  document,  strength- 
ened by  citations  of  precedents  and  supported  by 
certain  clauses  in  the  Code,  was  a  masterpiece  of  legal 
argument,  and  so  evidently  just  in  its  condemnation  of 
the  old  maid  that  thirty  or  forty  copies  were  made  and 
maliciously  distributed  through  the  town. 


314  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 


IV. 


A  few  days  after  this  commencement  of  hostilities 
between  Birotteau  and  the  old  maid,  the  Baron  de 
Listomere,  who  expected  to  be  included  as  captain  of 
a  corvette  in  a  coming  promotion  lately  announced  by 
the  minister  of  the  Navy,  received  a  letter  from  one 
of  his  friends  warning  him  that  there  was  some  inten- 
tion of  putting  him  on  the  retired  list.  Greatly  aston- 
ished by  this  information  he  started  for  Paris  immedi- 
ately, and  went  at  once  to  the  minister,  who  seemed 
to  be  amazed  himself,  and  even  laughed  at  the  baron's 
fears.  The  next  da}T,  however,  in  spite  of  the  min- 
ister's assurance,  Monsieur  de  Listomere  made  in- 
quiries in  the  different  offices.  By  an  indiscretion 
(often  practised  by  heads  of  departments  in  favor  of 
their  friends)  one  of  the  secretaries  showed  him  a 
document  confirming  the  fatal  news,  which  was  only 
waiting  the  signature  of  the  director,  who  was  ill,  to  be 
submitted  to  the  minister. 

The  Baron  de  Listomere  went  immediately  to  an 
uncle  of  his,  a  deputy,  who  could  see  the  minister  of 
the  Navy  at  the  Chamber  without  loss  of  time,  and 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  315 

begged  him  to  find  out  the  real  intentions  of  his  Ex- 
cellency in  a  matter  which  threatened  the  loss  of  his 
whole  future.  He  waited  in  his  uncle's  carriage  with 
the  utmost  anxiety  for  the  end  of  the  session.  His 
uncle  came  out  before  the  Chamber  rose,  and  said  to 
him  at  once  as  they  drove  awa}' :  "  Wh}T  the  devil 
have  jou.  meddled  in  a  priest's  quarrel?  The  min- 
ister began  by  telling  me  you  had  put  yourself  at  the 
head  of  the  Radicals  in  Tours ;  that  your  political 
opinions  were  objectionable ;  you  were  not  following 
in  the  lines  of  the  government,  —  with  other  remarks 
as  much  involved  as  if  he  were  addressing  the  Chamber. 
On  that  I  said  to  him,  '  Nonsense  ;  let  us  come  to  the 
point.'  The  end  was  that  his  Excellency  told  me 
frankly  you  were  in  bad  odor  with  the  diocese.  In 
short,  I  made  a  few  inquiries  among  my  colleagues, 
and  I  find  that  you  have  been  talking  slightingly  of  a 
certain  Abbe"  Troubert,  the  vicar-general,  but  a  very 
important  personage  in  the  province,  where  he  repre- 
sents the  Jesuits.  I  have  made  m}rself  responsible  to 
the  minister  for  your  future  conduct.  My  good  nephew, 
if  you  want  to  make  your  way  be  careful  not  to  excite 
ecclesiastical  enmities.  Go  at  once  to  Tours  and  try 
to  make  your  peace  with  that  devil  of  a  vicar-general ; 
remember  that  such  priests  are  men  with  whom  we 
absolutely  must  live  in  harmony.  Good  heavens ! 
when  we  are  all  striving  and  working   to  re-establish 


316  The    Vicar  of  Tours. 

religion  it  is  actually  stupid,  in  a  lieutenant  who  wants 
to  be  made  a  captain,  to  affront  the  priests.  If  you 
don't  make  up  matters  with  that  Abbe"  Troubert  you 
need  n't  count  on  me ;  I  shall  abandon  you.  The 
minister  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  told  me  just  now  that 
Troubert  was  certain  to  be  made  bishop  before  long ; 
if  he  takes  a  dislike  to  our  family  he  could  hinder  me 
from  being  included  in  the  next  batch  of  peers.  Don't 
you  understand?  " 

These  words  explained  to  the  naval  officer  the  nature 
of  Troubert's  secret  occupations,  about  which  Birot- 
teau  often  remarked  in  his  silly  way:  "I  can't  think 
what  he  does  with  himself,  —  sitting  up  all  night." 

The  canon's  position  in  the  midst  of  his  female  senate, 
converted  so  adroitly  into  provincial  detectives,  and 
his  personal  capacity,  had  induced  the  Congregation  of 
Jesus  to  select  him  out  of  all  the  ecclesiastics  in  the 
town,  as  the  secret  proconsul  of  Touraine.  Arch- 
bishop, general,  prefect,  all  men,  great  and  small,  were 
under  his  occult  dominion.  The  Baron  de  Listomere 
decided  at  once  on  his  course. 

"  I  shall  take  care,"  he  said  to  his  uncle,  "  not  to  get 
another  round  shot  below  my  water-line.,, 

Three  days  after  this  diplomatic  conference  between 
the  uncle  and  nephew,  the  latter,  returning  hurriedly  in 
a  post-chaise,  informed  his  aunt,  the  very  night  of  his 
arrival,  of  the  dangers  the  family  were  running  if  they 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  317 

persisted  in  supporting  that  "fool  of  a  Birotteau." 
The  baron  had  detained  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  as 
the  old  gentleman  was  taking  his  hat  and  cane  after 
the  usual  rubber  of  whist.  The  clear-sightedness  of 
that  sly  old  fox  seemed  indispensable  for  an  under- 
standing of  the  reefs  among  which  the  Listomere  family 
suddenly  found  themselves ;  and  perhaps  the  action  of 
taking  his  hat  and  cane  was  only  a  ruse  to  have  it 
whispered  in  his  ear :  "  Stay  after  the  others  ;  we  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

The  baron's  sudden  return,  his  apparent  satisfaction, 
which  was  quite  out  of  keeping  with  a  harassed  look 
that  occasionally  crossed  his  face,  informed  Monsieur 
de  Bourbonne  vaguely  that  the  lieutenant  had  met 
with  some  check  in  his  crusade  against  Gamard  and 
Troubert.  He  showed  no  surprise  when  the  baron 
revealed  the  secret  power  of  the  Jesuit  vicar-general. 

"  I  knew  that,"  he  said. 

u  Then  why,"  cried  the  baroness,  "  did  you  not  warn 
us?" 

"Madame,"  he  said,  sharply,  "forget  that  I  was 
aware  of  the  invisible  influence  of  that  priest,  and  I 
will  forget  that  j'ou  knew  it  equally  well.  If  we  do  not 
keep  this  secret  now  we  shall  be  thought  his  accom- 
plices, and  shall  be  more  feared  and  hated  than  we  are. 
Do  as  I  do ;  pretend  to  be  duped ;  but  look  carefully 
where  you  set  your  feet.     I  did  warn  you  sufficiently, 


318  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

but  you  would  not  understand  me,  and  I  did  not  choose 
to  compromise  my  self. " 

"  What  must  we  do  now?"  said  the  baron. 

The  abandonment  of  Birotteau  was  not  even  made 
a  question ;  it  was  a  first  condition  tacitly  accepted 
by  the  three  deliberators. 

"To  beat  a  retreat  with  the  honors  of  war  has  al- 
ways been  the  triumph  of  the  ablest  generals,"  replied 
Monsieur  de  Bourbonne.  "Bow  to  Troubert,  and  if 
his  hatred  is  less  strong  than  his  vanity  you  will  make 
him  your  ally  ;  but  if  you  bow  too  low  he  will  walk  over 
you  rough-shod ;  make  believe  that  you  intend  to  leave 
the  service,  and  3'ou'll  escape  him,  Monsieur  le  baron. 
Send  away  Birotteau,  madame,  and  you  will  set  things 
right  with  Mademoiselle  Gamard.  Ask  the  Abbe 
Troubert,  when  you  meet  him  at  the  archbishop's,  if  he 
can  play  whist.  He  will  say  yes.  Then  invite  him  to 
your  salon,  where  he  wants  to  be  received ;  he  '11  be 
sure  to  come.  You  are  a  woman,  and  you  can  cer- 
tainly win  a  priest  to  your  interests.  When  the  baron 
is  promoted,  his  uncle  peer  of  France,  and  Troubert  a 
bishop,  you  can  make  Birotteau  a  canon  if  you  choose. 
Meantime  yield,  —  but  yield  gracefully,  all  the  while 
with  a  slight  menace.  Your  family  can  give  Troubert 
quite  as  much  support  as  he  can  give  you.  You'll 
understand  each  other  perfectly  on  that  score.  As  for 
you,  sailor,  carry  your  deep-sea  line  about  you." 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  319 

"  Poor  Birotteau?  "  said  the  baroness. 

t4Oh,  get  rid  of  hiin  at  once,"  replied  the  old  man, 
as  he  rose  to  take  leave.  "  If  some  clever  Radical  lays 
hold  of  that  empty  head  of  his,  he  mav  cause  you  much 
trouble.  After  all,  the  court  would  certainly  give  a 
verdict  in  his  favor,  and  Troubert  must  fear  that.  He 
may  forgive  you  for  beginning  the  struggle,  but  if  they 
were  defeated  he  would  be  implacable.  I  have  said 
my  say." 

He  snapped  his  snuff-box,  put  on  his  overshoes,  and 
departed. 

The  next  day  after  breakfast  the  baroness  took 
the  vicar  aside  and  said  to  him,  not  without  visible 
embarrassment :  — 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,  you  will  think  what 
I  am  about  to  ask  of  you  very  unjust  and  very  incon- 
sistent ;  but  it  is  necessarj-,  both  for  you  and  for  us, 
that  your  lawsuit  with  Mademoiselle  Gamard  be  with- 
drawn by  resigning  your  claims,  and  also  that  you 
should  leave  my  house." 

As  he  heard  these  words  the  poor  abbe  turned  pale. 

"  I  am,"  she  continued,  "  the  innocent  cause  of  your 
misfortunes,  and,  moreover,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my 
nephew  you  would  never  have  begun  this  lawsuit,  which 
has  now  turned  to  your  injury  and  to  ours.  But  listen 
to  me." 

She  told  him  succinctly  the  immense  ramifications  of 


320  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

the  affair,  and  explained  the  serious  nature  of  its  con- 
sequences. Her  own  meditations  during  the  night  had 
told  her  something  of  the  probable  antecedents  of 
Troubert's  life ;  she  was  able,  without  misleading 
Birotteau,  to  show  him  the  net  so  ably  woven  round 
him  by  revenge,  and  to  make  him  see  the  power  and 
great  capacity  of  his  enem}",  whose  hatred  to  Chape- 
loud,  under  whom  he  had  been  forced  to  crouch  for  a 
dozen  years,  now  found  vent  in  seizing  Chapeloud's 
property  and  in  persecuting  Chapeloud  in  the  person 
of  his  friend.  The  harmless  Birotteau  clasped  his 
hands  as  if  to  pray,  and  wept  with  distress  at  the  sight 
of  human  horrors  that  his  own  pure  soul  was  incapable 
of  suspecting.  As  frightened  as  though  he  had  sud- 
denly found  himself  at  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  he 
listened,  with  fixed,  moist  eyes  in  which  there  was  no 
expression,  to  the  revelations  of  his  friend,  who  ended 
by  saying :  "  I  know  the  wrong  I  do  in  abandoning 
your  cause ;  but,  my  dear  abbe\  family  duties  must  be 
considered  before  those  of  friendship.  Yield,  as  I  do, 
to  this  storm,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  my  gratitude. 
I  am  not  talking  of  your  worldly  interests,  for  those 
I  take  charge  of.  You  shall  be  made  free  of  all  such 
anxieties  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  By  means  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Bourbonne,  who  will  know  how  to  save  ap- 
pearances, I  shall  arrange  matters  so  that  you  shall 
lack  nothing.     My  friend,  grant  me  the  right  to  aban- 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  321 

don  you.  I  shall  ever  be  your  friend,  though  forced  to 
conform  to  the  axioms  of  the  world.  You  must 
decide." 

The  poor,  bewildered  abbe"  cried  out:  "  Chapeloud 
was  right  when  he  said  that  if  Troubert  could  drag  him 
by  the  feet  out  of  his  grave  he  would  do  it!  He 
sleeps  in  Chapeloud's  bed !  " 

"There  is  no  use  in  lamenting,"  said  Madame  de 
Listomere,  "and  we  have  little  time  now  left  to  us. 
How  will  you  decide  ?  " 

Birotteau  was  too  good  and  kind  not  to  obey  in  a 
great  crisis  the  unreflecting  impulse  of  the  moment. 
Besides,  his  life  was  alread3'  in  the  agony  of  what  to 
him  was  death.  He  said,  with  a  despairing  look  at 
his  protectress  which  cut  her  to  the  heart,  "  I  trust 
myself  to  j'ou  —  I  am  but  the  stubble  of  the  streets." 

He  used  the  Tourainean  word  bourrier  which  has  no 
other  meaning  than  a  bit  of  straw.  But  there  are 
pretty  little  straws,  yellow,  polished,  and  shining,  the 
delight  of  children,  whereas  the  bourrier  is  straw  dis- 
colored, muddy,  sodden  in  the  puddles,  whirled  by  the 
tempest,  crushed  under  feet  of  men. 

"  But,  madame,  I  cannot  let  the  Abbe1  Troubert  keep 
Chapeloud's  portrait.  It  was  painted  for  me,  it  belongs 
to  me ;  obtain  that  for  me,  and  I  will  give  up  all  the 
rest." 

"  Well,"  said  Madame  de  Listomere.  "  I  will  go 
21 


322  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

myself  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard."  The  words  were 
said  in  a  tone  which  plainly  showed  the  immense  effort 
the  Baronne  de  Listomere  was  making  in  lowering 
herself  to  flatter  the  pride  of  the  old  maid.  "  I  will 
see  what  can  be  done,"  she  said ;  "  I  hardly  dare  hope 
anything.  Go  and  consult  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne ; 
ask  him  to  put  your  renunciation  into  proper  form,  and 
bring  me  the  paper.  I  will  see  the  archbishop,  and  with 
his  help  we  may  be  able  to  stop  the  matter  here." 

Birotteau  left  the  house  dismayed.  Troubert  as- 
sumed in  his  eyes  the  dimensions  of  an  Egyptian 
pyramid.  The  hands  of  that  man  were  in  Paris,  his 
elbows  in  the  Cloister  of  Saint-Gatien. 

"  He  !  "  said  the  victim  to  himself,  "  he  to  prevent  the 
Baron  de  Listomere  from  becoming  peer  of  France  !  — 
and,  perhaps,  by  the  help  of  the  archbishop  we  may  be 
able  to  stop  the  matter  here  !  " 

In  presence  of  such  great  interests  Birotteau  felt  he 
was  a  mere  worm  ;  he  judged  himself  rightly. 

The  news  of  Birotteau's  removal  from  Madame  de 
Listomere' s  house  seemed  all  the  more  amazing  because 
the  reason  of  it  was  wholty  impenetrable.  Madame  de 
Listomere  said  that  her  nephew  was  intending  to  marry 
and  leave  the  navy,  and  she  wanted  the  vicar's  apart- 
ment to  enlarge  her  own.  Birotteau's  relinquishment 
was  still  unknown.  The  advice  of  Monsieur  de  Bour- 
bonne was  followed.     Whenever  the  two  facts  reached 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  323 

the  ears  of  the  vicar-general  his  self-love  was  certain  to 
be  gratified  by  the  assurance  they  gave  that  even  if  the 
Listomere  family  did  not  capitulate  they  would  at  least 
remain  neutral  and  tacitly  recognize  the  occult  power 
of  the  Congregation,  —  to  recognize  it  was,  in  fact,  to 
submit  to  it.  But  the  lawsuit  was  still  sabjudice;  his 
opponents  yielded  and  threatened  at  the  same  time. 

The  Listomeres  had  thus  taken  precisely  the  same 
attitude  as  the  vicar-general  himself ;  the}-  held  them- 
selves aloof,  and  yet  were  able  to  direct  others.  But 
just  at  this  crisis  an  event  occurred  which  complicated 
the  plans  laid  by  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne  and  the 
Listomeres  to  quiet  the  Gamard  and  Troubert  party, 
and  made  them  more  difficult  to  cany  out. 

Mademoiselle  Gamard  took  cold  one  evening  in 
coming  out  of  the  cathedral ;  the  next  da}r  she  was  con- 
fined to  her  bed,  and  soon  after  became  dangerously 
ill.  The  whole  town  rang  with  pity  and  false  commis- 
eration:  "Mademoiselle  Gamard's  sensitive  nature 
had  not  been  able  to  bear  the  scandal  of  this  lawsuit. 
In  spite  of  the  justice  of  her  cause  she  was  likely  to  die 
of  grief.  Birotteau  had  killed  his  benefactress." 
Such  were  the  speeches  poured  through  the  capillary 
tubes  of  the  great  female  conclave,  and  taken  up  and 
repeated  by  the  whole  town  of  Tours. 

Madame  de  Listomere  went  the  day  after  Mademoi- 
selle Gamard  took  cold  to  pay  the  promised  visit,  and 


324  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

she  had  the  mortification  of  that  act  without  obtaining 
any  benefit  from  it,  for  the  old  maid  was  too  ill  to  see  her. 
She  then  asked  politely  to  speak  to  the  vicar-general. 

Gratified,  no  doubt,  to  receive  in  Chapeloud's  library, 
at  the  corner  of  the  fireplace  above  which  hung  the 
two  contested  pictures,  the  woman  who  had  hitherto 
ignored  him,  Troubert  kept  the  baroness  waiting  for  a 
moment  before  he  consented  to  admit  her.  No  courtier 
and  no  diplomatist  ever  put  into  a  discussion  of  their 
personal  interests  or  into  the  management  of  some 
great  national  negotiation  more  shrewdness,  dissimu- 
lation, and  ability  than  the  baroness  and  the  priest  dis- 
played when  they  met  face  to  face  for  the  struggle. 

Like  the  seconds  or  sponsors  who  in  the  Middle  Ages 
armed  the  champion,  and  strengthened  his  valor  by 
useful  counsel  until  he  entered  the  lists,  so  the  sly  old 
fox  had  said  to  the  baroness  at  the  last  moment : 
"  Don't  forget  your  cue.  You  are  a  mediator,  and  not 
an  interested  party.  Troubert  also  is  a  mediator. 
Weigh  your  words ;  study  the  inflections  of  the  man's 
voice.     If  he  strokes  his  chin  you  have  got  him." 

Some  sketchers  are  fond  oi*  caricaturing  the  contrast 
often  observable  between  what  is  said  and  what  is 
thought  by  the  speaker.  To  catch  the  full  meaning  of 
the  duel  of  words  which  now  took  place  between  the 
priest  and  the  great  lady,  it  is  necessary  to  unveil  the 
thoughts  that   each  hid  from  the  other  under   spoken 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  325 

sentences  of  apparent  insignificance.  Madame  de 
Listomere  began  by  expressing  the  regret  she  had  felt 
at  Birotteau's  lawsuit ;  and  then  went  on  to  speak  of 
her  desire  to  settle  the  matter  to  the  satisfaction  of 
both  parties. 

"  The  harm  is  done,  madame,"  said  the  priest,  in  a 
grave  voice.  "  The  pious  and  excellent  Mademoiselle 
Gamard  is  dying."  {I  don't  care  a  fig  for  the  old 
thing,  thought  he,  but  I  mean  to  put  her  death  on 
your  shoulders  and  harass  your  conscience  if  you 
are  such  a  fool  as  to  listen  to  it.) 

"  On  hearing  of  her  illness,"  replied  the  baroness, 
"I  entreated  Monsieur  Birotteau  to  relinquish  his 
claims ;  I  have  brought  the  document,  intending  to 
give  it  to  that  excellent  woman."  {I  see  what  you 
mean,  you  wily  scoundrel,  thought  she,  but  we  are 
safe  now  from  your  calumnies.  If  you  take  this 
document  you  '11  cut  your  own  fingers  by  admitting 
you  are  an  accomplice.) 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 

"Mademoiselle  Gamard's  temporal  affairs  do  not 
concern  me,"  said  the  priest  at  last,  lowering  the  large 
lids  over  his  eagle  eyes  to  veil  his  emotions.  (Ho! 
ho!  thought  he,  you  can't  compromise  me.  Thank 
God,  those  damned  lawyers  won't  dare  to  plead  any 
cause  that  could  smirch  me.  What  do  these  Listo- 
meres  expect  to  get  by  crouching  in  this  way  f) 


326  The    Vicar  of  Turs. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  baroness,  "  Monsieur  Birot- 
teau's  affairs  are  no  more  mine  than  those  of  Made- 
moiselle Gamard  are  yours  ;  but,  unfortunate^,  religion 
is  injured  by  such  a  quarrel,  and  I  come  to  you  as  a 
mediator  —  just  as  I  myself  am  seeking  to  make  peace." 
(  We  are  not  deceiving  each  other,  Monsieur  Troubert, 
thought  she.  Don't  you  feel  the  sarcasm  of  that 
answer  f) 

"  Injury  to  religion,  raadame  !  "  exclaimed  the  vicar- 
general.  "  Religion  is  too  lofty  for  the  actions  of  men  to 
injure."  (3fy  religion  is  I,  thought  he.)  "  God  makes 
no  mistake  in  His  judgments,  madame  ;  I  recognize  no 
tribunal  but  His." 

"  Then,  monsieur,"  she  replied,  "  let  us  endeavor  to 
bring  the  judgments  of  men  into  harmony  with  the  judg- 
ments of  God."     (  Yes,  indeed,  your  religion  is  you.) 

The  Abbe*  Troubert  suddenly  changed  his  tone. 

"  Your  nephew  has  been  to  Paris,  I  believe."  ( You 
found  out  about  me  there,  thought  he  ;  you  know  now 
that  lean  crush  you^  you  who  dared  to  slight  me,  and 
you  have  come  to  capitulate.) 

"Yes,  monsieur;  thank  30U  for  the  interest  you 
take  in  him.  He  returns  to-night ;  the  minister,  who 
is  very  considerate  of  us,  sent  for  him;  he  does  not 
want  Monsieur  de  Listomere  to  leave  the  service." 
{Jesuit,  you  can't  crush  us,  thought  she.  I  understand 
your  civility.) 

A  moment's  silence. 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  327 

"  I  did  not  think  my  nephew's  conduct  in  this  affair 
quite  the  thing,"  she  added  ;  "  but  naval  men  must  be 
excused  ;  they  know  nothing  of  law."  (  Come,  we  had 
better  make  peace,  thought  she ;  we  sha'n't  gain  any- 
thing by  battling  in  this  way.) 

.  A  slight  smile  wandered  over  the  priest's  face  and 
was  lost  in  its  wrinkles. 

"  He  has  done  us  the  service  of  getting  a  proper 
estimate  on  the  value  of  those  paintings,"  he  said, 
looking  up  at  the  pictures.  "  They  will  be  a  noble 
ornament  to  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin."  ( You  shot 
a  sarcasm  at  me,  thought  he,  and  there 's  another  in 
return  ;  we  are  quits,  madame.) 

"  If  you  intend  to  give  them  to  Saint-Gatien,  allow 
me  to  offer  frames  that  will  be  more  suitable  and 
worthy  of  the  place,  and  of  the  works  themselves."  (I 
wish  J  could  force  you  to  betray  that  you  have  taken 
Birotteau's  things  for  your  own,  thought  she.) 

"  They  do  not  belong  to  me,"  said  the  priest,  on  his 
guard. 

"  Here  is  the  deed  of  relinquishment,"  said  Madame 
de  Listomere  ;  "  it  ends  all  discussion,  and  makes  them 
over  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard."  She  laid  the  docu- 
ment on  the  table.  {See  the  confidence  I  place  in  you, 
thought  she.)  "  It  is  worthj-  of  3-ou,  monsieur,"  she 
added,  "worthy  of  your  noble  character,  to  reconcile 
two  Christians,  —  though  at  present  1  am  not  especially 
concerned  for  Monsieur  Birotteau  —  " 


328  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

"He  is  living  in  your  house,"  said  Troubert,  inter- 
rupting her. 

"  No,  monsieur,  he  is  no  longer  there."  (That peer- 
age and  my  nepheio's  promotion  force  me  to  do  base 
things,  thought  she.) 

The  priest  remained  impassible,  but  his  calm  ex- 
terior was  an  indication  of  violent  emotion.  Monsieur 
de  Bourbonne  alone  had  fathomed  the  secret  of  that 
apparent  tranquillity.     The  priest  had  triumphed  ! 

"Why  did  you  take  upon  }Tourself  to  bring  that 
relinquishment,"  he  asked,  with  a  feeling  analogous 
to  that  which  impels  a  woman  to  fish  for  compliments. 

"  I  could  not  avoid  a  feeling  of  compassion.  Birot- 
teau,  whose  feeble  nature  must  be  well  known  to  you, 
entreated  me  to  see  Mademoiselle  Gamard  and  to 
obtain  as  the  price  of  his  renunciation  —  " 

The  priest  frowned. 
"  of  rights  upheld  by  distinguished  lawyers,  the  por- 
trait of  — 

Troubert  looked  fixedly  at  Madame  de  Listomere.    ■ 
"  the  portrait   of   Chapeloud,"    she   said,   continuing ; 
"  I  leave  you  to  judge  of  his  claim."     (  You  will  be  cer- 
tain to  lose  your  case  if  we  go  to  law,  and  you  know 
it,  thought  she.) 

The  tone  of  her  voice  as  she  said  the  words  "  dis- 
tinguished lawyers  "  showed  the  priest  that  she  knew 
very  well  both  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  the 


The   Vicar  of  Tours.  329 

enemy.  She  made  her  talent  so  plain  to  this  connois- 
seur emeritus  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  which 
lasted  a  long  time  in  the  tone  here  given,  that  Trou- 
bert  finally  went  down  to  Mademoiselle  Gamard  to 
obtain  her  answer  to  Birotteau's  request  for  the 
portrait. 

He  soon  returned. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  UI  bring  you  the  words  of  a 
dying  woman.  *  The  Abbe*  Chapeloud  was  so  true  a 
friend  to  me,'  she  said,  '  that  I  cannot  consent  to  part 
with  his  picture.'  As  for  me,"  added  Troubert,  "  if 
it  were  mine  I  would  not  yield  it.  My  feelings  to  my 
late  friend  were  so  faithful  that  I  should  feel  my  right 
to  his  portrait  was  above  that  of  others." 

"  Well,  there  's  no  need  to  quarrel  over  a  bad  pic- 
ture." (I  care  as  little  about  it  as  you  do,  thought 
she.)  "  Keep  it,  and  I  will  have  a  copy  made  of  it.  I 
take  some  credit  to  in}'self  for  having  averted  this  de- 
plorable lawsuit ;  and  I  have  gained,  personally,  the 
pleasure  of  your  acquaintance.  I  hear  you  haye 
a  great  talent  for  whist.  You  will  forgive  a  woman 
for  curiosity,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  If  you  will  come 
and  play  at  my  house  sometimes  you  cannot  doubt 
3'Our  welcome." 

Troubert  stroked  his  chin.  ( Caught !  Bourbonne 
was  right !  thought  she ;  he  has  his  quantum  of 
vanity  /) 


330  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

It  was  true.  The  vicar-general  was  feeling  the  de- 
lightful sensation  which  Mirabeau  was  unable  to  sub- 
due when  in  the  days  of  his  power  he  found  gates 
opening  to  his  carriage  which  were  barred  to  him  in 
earlier  days. 

"  Madame,"  he  replied,  "  my  avocations  prevent  my 
going  much  into  society ;  but  for  you,  what  will  not  a 
man  do?  "  (  The  old  maid  is  going  to  die  ;  I'll  get  a 
footing  at  the  Listom&re's,  and  serve  them  if  they 
serve  me,  thought  he.  It  is  better  to  have  them  for 
friends  than  enemies.) 

Madame  de  Listomere  went  home,  hoping  that  the 
archbishop  would  complete  the  work  of  peace  so  au- 
spiciously begun.  But  Birotteau  was  fated  to  gain 
nothing  by  his  relinquishment.  Mademoiselle  Gamard 
died  the  next  day.  No  one  felt  surprised  when  her 
will  was  opened  to  find  that  she  had  left  everything  to 
the  Abbe"  Troubert.  Her  fortune  was  appraised  at 
three  hundred  thousand  francs.  The  vicar-general 
sent  to  Madame  de  Listomere  two  notes  of  invitation 
for  the  services  and  for  the  funeral  procession  of  his 
friend  ;  one  for  herself  and  one  for  her  nephew. 

"  We  must  go,"  she  said. 

"  It  can't  be  helped,"  said  Monsieur  de  Bourbonne. 
4 '  It  is  a  test  to  which  Troubert  puts  you.  Baron,  you 
must  go  to  the  cemeterj',"  he  added,  turning  to  the  lieu- 
tenant, who,  unluckily  for  him,  had  not  left  Tours. 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  831 

The  services  took  place,  and  were  performed  with 
unusual  ecclesiastical  magnificence.  Only  one  person 
wept;  and  that  was  Birotteau,  who,  kneeling  in  a  side 
chapel  and  seen  by  none,  believed  himself  guilty  of  the 
death  and  pra}*ed  sincerely  for  the  soul  of  the  de- 
ceased, bitterly  deploring  that  he  was  not  able  to 
obtain  her  forgiveness  before  she  died. 

The  Abbe"  Troubert  followed  the  body  of  his  friend 
to  the  grave ;  at  the  verge  of  which  he  delivered  a 
discourse  in  which,  thanks  to  his  eloquence,  the  narrow 
life  the  old  maid  had  lived  was  enlarged  to  monumental 
proportions.  Those  present  took  particular  note  of  the 
following  words  in  the  peroration  :  — 

"  This  life  of  days  devoted  to  God  and  to  His  reli- 
gion, a  life  adorned  with  noble  actions  silently  per- 
formed, and  with  modest  and  hidden  virtues,  was 
crushed  by  a  sorrow  which  we  might  call  undeserved 
if  we  could  forget,  here  at  the  verge  of  this  grave, 
that  our  afflictions  are  sent  by  God.  The  numerous 
friends  of  this  saintly  woman,  knowing  the  innocence 
and  nobility  of  her  soul,  foresaw  that  she  would  issue 
safely  from  her  trials  in  spite  of  the  accusations  which 
blasted  her  life.  It  may  be  that  Providence  has  called- 
her  to  the  bosom  of  God  to  withdraw  her  from  those 
trials.  Happy  they  who  can  rest  here  below  in  the 
peace  of  their  own  hearts  as  Sophie  now  is  resting  in 
her  robe  of  innocence  among  the  blest." 


332  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

"When  he  had  ended  his  pompous  discourse,"  said 
Monsieur  de  Bourbonne,  after  relating  the  incidents  of 
the  interment  to  Madame  de  Listomere  when  whist  was 
over,  the  doors  shut,  and  they  were  alone  with  the 
baron,  "this  Louis  XI.  in  a  cassock — imagine  him 
if  j'ou  can  !  — gave  a  last  flourish  to  the  sprinkler  and 
aspersed  the  coffin  with  holy  water."  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne  picked  up  the  tongs  and  imitated  the 
priest's  gesture  so  satirically  that  the  baron  and  his 
aunt  could  not  help  laughing.  "Not  until  then,"  con- 
tinued the  old  gentleman,  "  did  he  contradict  himself. 
Up  to  that  time  his  behavior  had  been  perfect ;  but  it 
was  no  doubt  impossible  for  him  to  put  the  old  maid, 
whom  he  despised  so  heartily  and  hated  almost  as 
much  as  he  hated  Chapeloud,  out  of  sight  forever  with- 
out allowing  his  joy  to  appear  in  that  last  gesture." 

The  next  day  Mademoiselle  Salomon  came  to  break- 
fast with  Madame  de  Listomere,  chiefly  to  say,  with 
deep  emotion:  "Our  poor  Abbe*  Birotteau  has  just 
received  a  frightful  blow,  which  shows  the  most  de- 
termined hatred.  He  is  appointed  curate  of  Saint 
S3Tmphorien." 

.  Saint-Sympliorien  is  a  suburb  of  Tours  lying  beyond 
the  bridge.  That  bridge,  one  of  the  finest  monuments 
of  French  architecture,  is  nineteen  hundred  feet  long, 
and  the  two  open  squares  which  surround  each  end  are 
precisely  alike. 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  333 

" Don't  you  see  the  misery  of  it?"  she  said,  after 
a  pause,  amazed  at  the  coldness  with  which  Madame 
de  Listomere  received  the  news.  "It  is  just  as  if 
the  abb£  were  a  hundred  miles  from  Tours,  from  his 
friends,  from  everything !  It  is  a  frightful  exile,  and 
all  the  more  cruel  because  he  is  kept  within  sight  of 
the  town  where  he  can  hardly  ever  come.  Since  his 
troubles  he  walks  very  feebly,  yet  he  will  have  to  walk 
three  miles  to  see  his  old  friends.  He  has  taken  to 
his  bed,  just  now,  with  fever.  The  parsonage  at  Saint- 
Symphorien  is  very  cold  and  damp,  and  the  parish  is 
too  poor  to  repair  it.  The  poor  old  man  will  be  buried 
in  a  living  tomb.     Oh,  it  is  an  infamous  plot !  " 

To  end  this  history  it  will  suffice  to  relate  a  few 
events  in  a  simple  Way,  and  to  give  one  last  picture  of 
its  chief  personages. 

Five  months  later  the  vicar-general  was  made  Bishop 
of  Troyes ;  and  Madame  de  Listomere  was  dead,  leav- 
ing an  annuity  of  fifteen  hundred  francs  to  the  Abb6 
Birotteau.  The  day  on  which  the  dispositions  in  her 
will  were  made  known  Monseigneur  Hyacinthe,  Bishop 
of  Troyes,  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  Tours  to  reside 
in  his  diocese,  but  he  delayed  his  departure  on  receiv- 
ing the  news.  Furious  at  being  foiled  by  a  woman  to 
whom  he  had  lately  given  his  countenance  while  she 
had  been  secretly  holding  the  hand  of  a  man  whom 
he  regarded  as  his  enemy,  Troubert  again  threatened 


334  The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

the  baron's  future  career,  and  put  in  jeopardy  the  peer- 
age of  his  uncle.  He  made  in  the  salon  of  the  arch- 
bishop, and  before  an  assembled  party,  one  of  those 
priestly  speeches  which  are  big  with  vengeance  and 
soft  with  honied  mildness.  The  Baron  de  Listomere 
went  the  next  day  to  see  this  implacable  enemy,  who 
must  have  imposed  sundry  hard  conditions  upon  him, 
for  the  baron's  subsequent  conduct  showed  the  most 
entire  submission  to  the  will  of  the  terrible  Jesuit. 

The  new  bishop  made  over  Mademoiselle  Gamard's 
house  by  deed  of  gift  to  the  Chapter  of  the  cathedral ; 
he  gave  Chapeloud's  books  and  bookcases  to  the  semi- 
nary;  he  presented  the  two  disputed  pictures  to  the 
Chapel  of  the  Virgin  ;  but  he  kept  Chapeloud's  portrait. 
No  one  knew  how  to  explain  this  almost  total  renuncia- 
tion of  Mademoiselle  Gamard's  bequest.  Monsieur  de 
Bourbonne  supposed  that  the  bishop  had  secretly  kept 
moneys  that  were  invested,  so  as  to  support  his  rank 
with  dignity  in  Paris,  where  of  course  he  would  take 
his  seat  on  the  Bishops'  bench  in  the  Upper  Chamber. 
It  was  not  until  the  night  before  Monseigneur  Trou- 
bert's  departure  from  Tours  that  the  sly  old  fox  un- 
earthed the  hidden  reason  of  this  strange  action,  the 
deathblow  given  by  the  most  persistent  vengeance  to 
the  feeblest  of  victims.  Madame  de  Listomere's  leg- 
acy to  Birotteau  was  contested  by  the  Baron  de  Lis- 
tomere under  a  pretence  of  undue  influence  ! 


The   Vicar  of  Tours,  335 

A  f(§w  da}'s  after  the  case  was  brought  the  baron  was 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  captain.  As  a  measure  of 
ecclesiastical  discipline,  the  curate  of  Saint-Symphorien 
was  suspended.  His  superiors  judged  him  guilt}". 
The  murderer  of  Sophie  Gamard  was  also  a  swindler. 
If  Monseigneur  Troubert  had  kept  Mademoiselle 
Gamard's  propert}7  he  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
make  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  censure  Birotteau. 

At  the  moment  when  Monseigneur  Hyacinthe,  Bishop 
of  Troyes,  drove  along  the  quay  Saint-Symphorien  in  a 
post-chaise  on  his  way  to  Paris  poor  Birotteau  had 
been  placed  in  an  armchair  in  the  sun  on  a  terrace 
above  the  road.  The  unhappy  priest,  smitten  by  the 
archbishop,  was  pale  and  haggard.  Grief,  stamped  on 
every  feature,  distorted  the  face  that  was  once  so 
inildly  gay.  Illness  had  dimmed  his  eyes,  formerly 
brightened  by  the  pleasures  of  good  living  and  devoid 
of  serious  ideas,  with  a  veil  which  simulated  thought. 
It  was  but  the  skeleton  of  the  old  Birotteau  who  had 
rolled  only  one  year  earlier  so  vacuous  but  so  content 
along  the  Cloister.  The  bishop  cast  one  look  of  pity 
and  contempt  upon  his  victim ;  then  he  consented  to 
forget  him,  and  went  his  way. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Troubert  would  have  been  in 
other  times  a  Hildebrand  or  an  Alexander  the  Sixth. 
In  these  days  the  Church  is  no  longer  a  political 
power,  and  does  not  absorb  the  whole  strength  of  her 


The   Vicar  of  Tours. 

solitaries.  Celibacy,  however,  presents  the  inherent 
vice  of  concentrating  the  faculties  of  man  upon  a  single 
passion,  egotism,  which  renders  celibates  either  useless 
or  mischievous.  We  live  at  a  period  when  the  defect 
of  governments  is  to  make  Man  for  Society  rather  than 
Society  for  Man.  There  is  a  perpetual  struggle  going 
on  between  the  Individual  and  the  Social  system  which 
insists  on  using  him,  while  he  is  endeavoring  to  use  it  to 
his  own  profit;  whereas,  in  former  days,  man,  really 
more  free,  was  also  more  loyal  to  the  public  weal.  The 
round  in  which  men  struggle  in  these  days  has  been 
insensibly  widened  ;  the  soul  which  can  grasp  it  as  a 
whole  will  ever  be  a  magnificent  exception  ;  for,  as  a 
general  thing,  in  morals  as  in  physics,  impulsion  loses 
in  intensity  what  it  gains  in  extension.  Society  can 
not  be  based  on  exceptions.  Man  in  the  first  instance 
was  purely  and  simply,  father ;  his  heart  beat  warmly, 
concentrated  in  the  one  ray  of  Family.  Later,  he 
lived  for  a  clan,  or  a  small  community ;  hence  the 
great  historical  devotions  of  Greece  and  Rome.  After 
that  he  was  the  man  of  a  caste  or  of  a  religion,  to 
maintain  the  greatness  of  which  he  often  proved  him- 
self sublime  ;  but  by  that  time  the  field  of  his  interests 
became  enlarged  by  many  intellectual  regions.  In  our 
day,  his  life  is  attached  to  that  of  a  vast  country ; 
sooner  or  later  his  family  will  be,  it  is  predicted,  the 
entire  universe. 


The    Vicar  of  Tours.  337 

Will  this  moral  cosmopolitanism,  the  hope  of  Chris- 
tian Rome,  prove  to  be  onl}T  a  sublime  error?  It  is  so 
natural  to  believe  in  the  realization  of  a  noble  vision, 
in  the  Brotherhood  of  Man.  But,  alas !  the  human 
machine  does  not  have  such  divine  proportions.  Souls 
that  are  vast  enough  to  grasp  a  range  of  feelings 
bestowed  on  great  men  only  will  never  belong  to 
either  fathers  of  families  or  simple  citizens.  Some 
physiologists  have  thought  that  as  the  brain  enlarges 
the  heart  narrows ;  but  they  are  mistaken.  The  ap- 
parent egotism  of  men  who  bear  a  science,  a  nation,  a 
code  of  laws  in  their  bosom  is  the  noblest  of  passions  ; 
it  is,  as  one  may  say,  the  maternity  of  the  masses ;  to 
give  birth  to  new  peoples,  to  produce  new  ideas  they 
must  unite  within  their  mighty  brains  the  breasts  of 
woman  and  the  force  of  God.  The  history  of  such  men 
as  Innocent  the  Third  and  Peter  the  Great,  and  all  great 
leaders  of  their  age  and  nation  will  show,  if  need  be, 
in  the  highest  spheres  the  same  vast  thought  of  which 
Troubert  was  made  the  representative  in  the  quiet 
depths  of  the  Cloister  of  Saint-Gatien. 


THE    EN 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers1  Publications. 


A  MEMOIR  OF  HONORE  DE  BALZAC. 


Compiled  and  written  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley,  translator 
of  Balzac's  works.  With  portrait  of  Balzac,  taken  one  hour  after 
death,  by  Eugene  Giraud,  and  a  Sketch  of  the  Prison  of  the  College 
de  Vendome.  One  volume,  i2mo.  Half  Russia,  uniform  with  our 
edition  of  Balzac's  works.     Price,  $1.50. 

A  complete  life  of  Balzac  can  probably  never  be  written.  The  sole  object  of 
the  present  volume  is  to  present  Balzac  to  American  readers.  This  memoir  is 
meant  to  be  a  presentation  of  the  man,  —  and  not  of  his  work,  except  as  it  was  a 
part  of  himself,  —  derived  from  authentic  sources  of  information,  and  presented  in 
their  own  words,  with  such  simple  elucidations  as  a  close  intercourse  with  Balzac's 
mind,  necessitated  by  conscientious  translation,  naturally  gives.  The  portrait 
in  this  volume  was  considered  by  Madame  de  Balzac  the  best  likeness  of  her 
husband. 

Miss  Wormeley's  discussion  of  the  subject  is  of  value  in  many  ways,  and  it  has 
long  been  needed  as  a  help  to  comprehension  of  his  life  and  character.  Person- 
ally,  he  lived  up  to  his  theory.  His  life  was  in  fact  austere.  Any  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  conditions  under  which  he  worked,  such  as  are  given  in  this  volume, 
will  show  that  this  must  have  been  the  case ;  and  the  fact  strongly  reinforces  the 
doctrine.  Miss  Wormeley,  in  arranging  her  account  of  his  career,  has,  almost 
of  necessity,  made  free  use  of  the  letters  and  memoir  published  by  Balzac's  sister, 
Madame  Surville.  She  has  also,  whenever  it  would  serve  the  purpose  of  illus- 
tration better,  quoted  from  the  sketches  of  him  by  his  contemporaries,  wisely 
rejecting  the  trivialities  and  frivolities  by  the  exaggeration  of  which  many  of  his 
first  chroniclers  seemed  bent  upon  giving  the  great  author  a  kind  of  opera-bouffe 
aspect.  To  judge  from  some  of  these  accounts,  he  was  nighty,  irresponsible, 
possibly  a  little  mad,  prone  to  lose  touch  of  actualities  by  the  dominance  of  his 
imagination,  fond  of  wild  and  impracticable  schemes,  and  altogether  an  eccentric 
and  unstable  person.  But  it  is  not  difficult  to  prove  that  Balzac  was  quite  a 
different  character ;  that  he  possessed  a  marvellous  power  of  intellectual  organi- 
zation ;  that  he  was  the  most  methodical  and  indefatigable  of  workers;  that  he 
was  a  man  of  a  most  delicate  sense  of  humor ;  that  his  life  was  not  simply  de- 
voted to  literary  ambition,  tut  was  a  martyrdom  to  obligations  which  were  his 
misfortune,  but  not  his  fault. 

All  this  Miss  Wormley  has  well  set  forth  ;  and  in  doing  so  she  has  certainly 
relieved  Balzac  of  much  unmerited  odium,  and  has  enabled  those  who  have  not 
made  a  study  of  his  character  and  work  to  understand  how  high  the  place  is  in 
any  estimate  of  the  helpers  of  modern  progress  and  enlightenment  to  which  his 
genius  and  the  loftiness  of  his  aims  entitle  him.  This  memoir  is  a  very  modest 
biography,  though  a  very  good  one.  The  author  has  effaced  herself  as  much  as 
possible,  and  has  relied  upon  "documents"  whenever  they  were  trustworthy. — 
N.  Y.~  Tribune. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.    Mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of 
price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 


BALZAC  IN  ENGLISH. 


An  Historical  Mystery. 

Translated  by  KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY. 
12mo.    Half  Russia.    Uniform  with  Balzac's  Works.    Price,  $1.50. 


Ah  Historical  MysterySs  the  title  given  to"  Une  Te^breuse  Affaire,"  which 
has  just  appeared  in  the  series  of  translations  of  Honors'  de  Balzac's  novels,  by 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley  This  exciting  romance  is  full  of  stirring  interest, 
and  is  distinguished  by  that  minute  analysis  of  character  in  which  its  eminent 
author  excelled.  The  characters  stand  boldly  out  from  the  surrounding  incidents, 
and  with  a  fidelity  as  wonderful  as  it  is  truthful.  Plot  and  counterplot  follow 
each  other  with  marvellous  rapidity;  and  around  the  exciting  davs  when  Na- 
poleon was  First  Consul,  and  afterward  when  he  was  Emperor,  a  mystery  is 
woven  in  which  some  royalists  are  concerned  that  is  concealed  with  masterly 
ingenuity  until  the  novelist  sees  fit  to  take  his  reader  into  his  confidence.  The 
heroine,  Laurence,  is  a  remarkably  strong  character ;  and  the  love-story  in  which 
she  figures  is  refreshing  in  its  departure  from  the  beaten  path  of  the  ordinary 
writer  of  fiction.  Michu,  her  devoted  servant,  has  also  a  marked  individuality, 
which  leaves  a  lasting  impression.  Napoleon,  Talleyrand,  Fouchd,  and  other 
historical  personages,  appear  in  the  tale  in  a  manner  that  is  at  once  natural  and 
impressive.  As  an  addition  to  a  remarkable  series,  the  book  is  one  that  no 
admirer  of  Balzac  can  afford  to  neglect.  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  reproduces 
the  peculiarities  of  the  author's  style  with  the  faithfulness  for  which  she  has 
hitherto  been  celebrated.  —  Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

It  makes  very  interesting  reading  at  this  distance  of  time,  however ;  and  Balzac 
has  given  to  the  legendary  account  much  of  the  solidity  of  history  by  his  adroit 
manipulation.  For  the  main  story  it  must  be  said  that  the  action  is  swifter  and 
more  varied  than  in  many  of  the  author's  books,  and  that  there  are  not  wanting 
many  of  those  cameo-like  portraits  necessary  to  warn  the  reader  against  slovenly 
perusal  of  this  carefully  written  story;  for  the  complications  are  such,  and  the  re- 
lations between  the  several  plots  involved  so  intricate,  that  the  thread  might 
easily  be  lost  and  much  of  the  interest  be  thus  destroyed  The  usual  Balzac 
compactness  is  of  course  present  throughout,  to  give  body  and  significance  to  the 
work,  and  the  stage  is  crowded  with  impressive  figures.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  find  a  book  which  gives  a  better  or  more  faithful  illustration  of  one  of  the 
strangest  periods  in  French  history,  in  short ;  and  its  attraction  as  a  story  is  at 
least  equalled  by  its  value  as  a  true  picture  of  the  time  it  is  concerned  with.  The 
translation  is  as  spirited  and  close  as  Miss  Wormeley  has  taught  us  to  expect  in 
this  admirable  series.  —New  York  Tribune. 

One  of  the  most  intensely  interesting  novels  that  Balzac  ever  wrote  is  An 
Historical  Mystery,  whose  translation  has  just  been  added  to  the  preceding 
novels  that  compose  the  "ComeMie  Humaine  "  so  admirably  translated  by  Miss 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.  The  story  opens  in  the  autumn  of  1803,  in  the 
time  of  the  Empire,  and  the  motive  is  in  deep-laid  political  plots,  which  are  re- 
vealed with  the  subtle  and  ingenious  skill  that  marks  the  art  of  Balzac.  .  .  The 
story  is  a  deep-laid  political  conspiracy  of  the  secret  service  of  the  ministry  of 
the  police.  Talleyrand,  M'lle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  the  Princess  de  Cadigan,  Louis 
XVIIL,  as  well  as  Napoleon,  figure  as  characters  of  this  thrilling  historic  ro- 
mance. An  absorbing  love-story  is  also  told,  in  which  State  intrigue  plays  an 
important  part.  The  character-drawing  is  faithful  to  history,  and  the  story  illu- 
minates French  life  in  the  early  years  of  the  century  as  if  a  calcium  light  were 
thrown  on  the  scene. 

It  is  a  romance  of  remarkable  power?  and  one  of  the  most  deeply  fascinating 
of  all  the  novels  of  the  *'  Com^die  Humaine." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
Price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston. 


BALZAC   IN   ENGLISH. 


Fame  and   Sorrow, 

anto  ©tfjer  .Stories. 

TRANSLATED   BY   KATHARINE   PRESCOTT  WORMELEY. 

I2mo.  Half  Russia.  Uniform  with  our  edition  of  Balzac's 
Works.  Price,  $1.50.  In  addition  to  this  remarkable  story, 
the  volume  contains  the  following,  namely :  "  Colonel  Chabert," 
'■'  The  Atheist's  Mass,"  "  La  Grande  Breteche,"  "  The  Purse,"  and 
"  La  Grenadiere." 

The  force  and  passion  of  the  stories  of  Balzac  are  unapproachable.  He  had 
the  art  of  putting  into  half  a  dozen  pages  all  the  fire  and  stress  which  many 
writers,  who  are  still  great,  cannot  compass  in  a  volume.  The  present  volume  is 
an  admirable  collection,  and  presents  well  his  power  of  handling  the  short  story. 
That  the  translation  is  excellent  need  hardly  be  said  —  Boston  Courier. 

The  six  stories,  admirably  translated  by  Miss  Wormeley,  afford  good  examples 
of  Balzac's  work  in  what  not  a  few  critics  have  thought  his  chief  specialty.  It  is 
certain  that  no  writer  of  many  novels  wrote  so  many  short  stories  as  he  ;  and  it  is 
equally  as  certain  that  his  short  stories  are,  almost  without  an  exception,  models 
of  what  such  compositions  ought  to  be.  .  .  No  modern  author,  however,  of  any 
school  whatever,  has  succeeded  in  producing  short  stories  half  so  good  as  Balzac's 
best.  Balzac  did  not,  indeed,  attempt  to  display  his  subtility  and  deftness  by 
writing  short  stories  about  nothing.  Every  one  of  his  tales  contains  an  episode, 
not  necessarily,  but  usually,  a  dramatic  episode  The  first  in  the  present  collec- 
tion, better  known  as  "  La  Maison  du  Chat-qui-pelote,"  is  really  a  short  novel. 
It  has  all  the  machinery,  all  the  interest,  all  the  detail  of  a  regular  story.  The 
difference  is  that  it  is  compressed  as  Balzac  only  could  compress ;  that  here  and 
there  important  events,  changes,  etc.,  are  indicated  in  a  few  powerful  line*  instead 
of  being  elaborated;  that  the  vital  points  are  thrown  into  strong  relief.  Take  the 
pathetic  story  of  "  Colonel  Chabert  "  It  begins  with  an  elaboration  of  detail. 
The  description  of  the  lawyer's  office  might  seem  to  some  too  minute.  But  it  is 
the  stage  upon  which  the  Colonel  is  to  appear,  and  when  he  enters  we  see  the 
value  of  the  preliminaries,  for  a  picture  is  presented  which  the  memory  seizes  and 
holds.  As  the  action  progresses,  detail  is  used  more  parsimoniously,  because  tho 
mise-en-scene  has  alreadv  been  completed,  and  because,  also,  the  characters  once 
clearly  described,  the  development  of  character  and  the  working  of  passion  can 
be  indicated  with  a  few  pregnant  strokes.  Notwithstanding  this  increasing 
economy  of  space,  the  action  takes  on  a  swifter  intensity,  and  the  culmination  01 
the  tragedy  leaves  the  reader  breathless. 

In  "The  Atheist  s  Mass"  we  have  quite  a  new  kind  of  story  This  is  rather 
a  psychological  study  than  a  narrative  of  action.  Two  widely  distinguished  char- 
acters are  thrown  on  the  canvas  here,  —  that  of  the  great  surgeon  and  that  of  the 
humble  patron;  and  one  knows  not  which  most  to  admire,  the  vigor  of  the 
drawing,  or  the  subtle  and  lucid  psychical  analysis.  In  both  there  is  rare  beauty  of 
soul,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  the  poor  Auvergnat  surpasses  the  eminent  surgeon, 
though  this  is  a  delicate  and  difficult  question.  But  how  complete  the  little  story 
is ;  how  much  it  tells  ;  with  what  skill,  and  in  how  delightful  a  manner  !  Then 
there  is  that  tremendous  haunting  legend  of  "  La  Grande  Breteche,"  a  story  which 
has  always  been  turned  into  more  languages  and  twisted  into  more  new  forms  than 
almost  any  other  of  its  kind  extant.  What  author  has  equalled  the  continuing 
horror  of  that  unfaithful  wife's  agony,  compelled  to  look  on  and  assist  at  the  slow 
murder  of  her  entrapped  lover?  .  .  Then  the  death  of  the  husband  and  wife,  — 
the  one  by  quick  and  fiercer  dissipation,  the  other  by  simple  refusal  to  live  longer, 
—  and  the  abandonment  of  the  accursed  dwelling  to  solitude  and  decay,  complete 
a  picture,  which  for  vividness,  emotional  force,  imaginative  power,  and  compre- 
hensiveness of  effects,  can  be  said  to  have  few  equals  in  its  own  class  of  fiction.  — 
Kansas  City  Journal. 

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BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


SONS  OF  THE  SOIL. 

Translated  by  Kathan'ne  Prescott  Wormeley. 


Many  critics  have  regarded  "  Les  Paysans,"  to  which  Miss  Wormeley, 
in  her  admirable  translation,  has  given  the  title  "  Sons  of  the  Soil,"  as  one 
of  Balzac's  strongest  novels  ;  and  it  cannot  fail  to  impress  those  who  read 
this  English  rendering  of  it.  Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago  Balzac  made  a  pro- 
found study  of  the  effects  produced  by  the  Revolution  upon  the  peasants 
of  the  remote  provinces  of  France,  and  he  has  here  elaborated  these  obser- 
vations in  a  powerful  picture  of  one  of  those  strange,  disguised,  but  fero- 
cious social  wars  which  were  at  the  time  not  only  rendered  possible,  but 
promoted  by  three  potent  influences,  namely,  the  selfishness  of  the  rich 
landholders;  the  land-hunger  and  stimulated  greed  of  the  peasants;  and 
the  calculated  rapacity  of  middle-class  capitalists,  craftily  using  the  hatreds 
of  the  poor  to  forward  their  own  plots.  The  first  part  of  "  Les  Paysans  " 
(and  the  only  part  which  w,.s  published  during  the  author's  life)  appeared 
under  a  title  taken  from  an  old  and  deeply  significant  proverb,  Qui  a  terre 
a  guerre,  — "  Who  has  land  has  war." 

It  is  the  account  of  a  guerilla  war  conducted  by  a  whole  country-sids 
against  one  great  land-owner,  —  a  war  in  which,  moreover,  the  lawless 
aggressions  of  the  peasantry  are  prompted,  supported,  and  directed  by  an 
amazing  alliance  between  the  richest,  most  unscrupulons,  and  most  power 
ful  of  the  neighboring  provincial  magnates,  who,  by  controlling,  through 
family  council,  the  local  administration,  are  in  a  position  to  paralyze  resist 
ance  to  their  conspiracy.  The  working  out  of  this  deep  plot  affords  th» 
author  opportunity  for  the  introduction  of  a  whole  gallery  of  marvellout 
studies. 

It  is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  powerful  and  absorbing 
story  is  lifted  above  the  level  of  romance  by  the  unequalled  artistic  genius 
of  the  author,  and  that  it  is  at  times  almost  transformed  into  a  profound 
political  study  by  the  depth  and  acumen  of  his  suggestions  and  comments. 
Nor  should  it  be  requisite  to  point  out  analogies  with  territorial  conditions 
in  more  than  one  other  country,  which  lend  to  "  Les  Paysans  "  a  special 
interest  and  significance,  and  are  likely  to  prevent  it  from  becoming  obsolete 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  Of  the  translation  it  only  need  be  said  that  it  is 
as  good  as  Miss  Wormeley  has  accustomed  us  to  expect,  and  that  means 
the  best  rendering  of  French  into  English  that  has  ever  been  done. — 
New  York  Tribune. 


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BALZAC'S  PHILOSOPHICAL  NOVELS. 


THE  MAGIC  SKIN.— LOUIS  LAMBERT. 
— ee=SERAPHITA.= 

TRANSLATED   BY 

KATHARINE     PRESCOTT     WORMELEY. 

WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    TO  EACH   NOVEL    BV 

GEORGE   FREDERIC   PARSONS. 

[From  Le  Livre,  Revue  du  Monde  Littiraire,  Paris,  March,  1889.] 
There  are  men  so  great  that  humanity  passes  generations  of  existences  in 
measuring  them.  .  .  .  Certain  it  is  that  to-day  the  French  Academy  makes  Bal- 
zac's work  the  theme  for  its  prize  of  eloquence,  that  the  great  writer  is  translated 
and  commented  upon  in  foreign  countries,  and  that  in  Paris  and  even  at  Tours, 
his  native  place,  statues  are  in  process  of  being  erected  to  him.  .  .  .  But  the 
marble  of  M.  Chapus,  the  bronze  of  M.  Fournier,  —  Balzac  sad  or  Balzac  seated,  — 
are  of  little  consequence  to  the  glory  of  the  writer  standing  before  the  world,  who 
bore  a  world  in  his  brain  and  brought  it  forth,  who  was  at  once  the  Diderot  and 
the  Rabelais  of  this  century,  and  who,  above  and  beyond  their  fire,  their  imagina- 
tion, their  superabounding  life,  their  hilarious  spirit,  paradoxical  and  marvellously 
sagacious  as  it  was,  had  in  the  highest  degree  the  mystical  gift  of  intuition,  and  is 
able,  beyond  all  others,  to  open  to  us  illimitable  vistas  of  the  Unseen. 

It  is  this  side  of  Balzac's  genius  which  at  the  present  time  attracts  and  pre- 
occupies foreign  critics.  Mile  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley  has  undertaken  to 
translate  the  "  Comedie  Humaine "  into  English.  She  has  already  published 
several  volumes  which  show  a  most  intelligent  sympathy  and  a  talent  that  is  both 
simple  and  vigorous.  Lately  she  translated  "  La  Peau  de  Chagrin  "  ("  The  Magic 
Skin"),  and  now,  taking  another  step  into  the  esoteric  work  of  the  Master,  she  gives 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon  public  "  Louis  Lambert."  But  she  does  not  venture  upon  this 
arduous  task  without  support.  Mr.  George  Frederic  Parsons  has  undertaken  in  a 
long  introduction  to  initiate  the  reader  into  the  meaning  hidden ,  or,  we  should  rather 
say,  encased,  in  the  psychologic  study  of  a  lofty  soul  which  ends  by  inspiring  mun- 
dane minds  with  respect  for  its  seeming  madness  and  a  deep  sense  of  the  Beyond. 
.  .  .  Many  critics,  and  several  noted  ones,  have  so  little  understood  the  real  mean- 
ing of  "  Louis  Lambert"  and  "  Seraphka  "  that  they  have  wondered  why  the  au- 
thor gave  them  a  place  in  the  "  Comedie  Humaine,"  which,  nevertheless,  without 
them  would  be  a  temple  without  a  pediment,  as  M.  Taine  very  clearly  saw  and 
said.  Mr.  Parsons  takes  advantage  of  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  to  state  and 
prove  and  elucidate  this  truth.  The  commentary  may  be  thought  a  little  long,  a 
little  replete,  or  too  full  of  comparisons  and  erudite  reference ;  but  all  serious 
readers  who  follow  it  throughout  will  never  regret  that  they  have  thus  prepared 
themselves  to  understand  Balzac's  work.  We  call  the  attention  of  the  philosophi- 
cal and  theosophical  journals  to  this  powerful  study.  [Translated.] 


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BALZAC     IN     ENGLISH. 


LOUIS  LAMBERT. 


"As  for  Balzac,"  writes  Oscar  Wilde,  "he  was  a  most  remarkable  combination 
of  the  artistic  temperament  with  the  scientific  spirit."  It  is  his  artistic  tempera- 
ment which  reveals  itself  the  most  clearly  in  the  novel  before  us.  As  we  read 
"Louis  Lambert,"  we  feel  convinced  that  it  is  largely  autobiographical.  It  is  a 
psychical  study  as  delicate  as  Amiel's  Journal,  and  nearly  as  spiritual.  We  follow 
the  life  of  the  sensitive,  poetical  schoolboy,  feeling  that  it  is  a  true  picture  of  Bal- 
zac's own  youth.  When  the  literary  work  on  which  the  hero  had  written  for  years 
in  all  his  spare  moments  is  destroyed,  we  do  not  need  to  be  told  by  Mr.  Parsons 
that  this  is  an  episode  in  Balzac's  own  experience  ;  we  are  sure  of  this  fact  already ; 
and  no  writer  could  describe  so  sympathetically  the  deep  spiritual  experiences  of 
an  aspiring  soul  who  had  not  at  heart  felt  them  keenly.  No  materialist  could  have 
written  "  Louis  Lambert."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

Of  all  of  Balzac's  works  thus  far  translated  by  Miss  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley, 
the  last  in  the  series,  "  Louis  Lambert,"  is  the  most  difficult  of  comprehension. 
It  is  the  second  of  the  author's  Philosophical  Studies,  "The  Magic  Skin"  being 
the  first,  and  "  Seraphita,"  shortly  to  be  published,  being  the  third  and  last.  In 
"Louis  Lambert"  Balzac  has  presented  a  study  of  a  noble  soul — a  spirit  of 
exalted  and  lofty  aspirations  which  chafes  under  the  fetters  of  earthly  existence, 
and  has  no  sympathy  with  the  world  of  materialism.  This  pure-souled  genius  is 
made  the  medium,  moreover,  for  the  enunciation  of  the  outlines  of  a  system  of 
philosophy  which  goes  to  the  very  roots  of  Oriental  occultism  and  mysticism  as  its 
source,  and  which  thus  reveals  the  marvellous  scope  of  Balzac's  learning.  The 
scholarly  introduction  to  the  book  by  George  Frederic  Parsons,  in  addition  to 
throwing  a  great  deal  of  valuable  light  upon  other  phases  of  the  work,  shows  how 
many  of  the  most  recent  scientific  theories  are  directly  in  line  with  the  doctrines 
broadly  set  forth  by  Balzac  nearly  sixty  years  ago.  The  book  is  one  to  be  studied 
rather  than  read  ;  and  it  is  made  intelligible  by  the  extremely  able  introduction 
and  by  Miss  Wormeley's  excellent  translation. —  The  Book-Buyer- 

"  Louis  Lambert,"  with  the  two  other  members  of  the  Trilogy,  "  La  Peau  de 
Chagrin  "  and  "  Seraphita,"  is  a  book  which  presents  many  difficulties  to  the 
student.  It  deals  with  profound  and  unfamiliar  subjects,  and  the  meaning  of  the 
author  by  no  means  lies  on  the  surface.  It  is  the  study  of  a  great,  aspiring  soul 
enshrined  in  a  feeble  body,  the  sword  wearing  out  the  scabbard,  the  spirit  soaring 
away  from  its  prison-house  of  flesh  to  its  more  congenial  home.  It  is  in  marked 
contrast  to  the  study  of  the  destructive  and  debasing  process  which  we  see  in  the 
"  Peau  de  Chagrin."  It  stands  midway  between  this  study  of  the  mean  and  base 
and  that  noble  presentation  of  the  final  evolution  of  a  soul  on  the  very  borders  of 
Divinity  which  Balzac  gives  us  in  "  Seraphita." 

The  reader  not  accustomed  to  such  high  ponderings  needs  a  guide  to  place  him 
en  rapport  with  the  Seer.  Such  a  guide  and  friend  he  finds  in  Mr.  Parsons, 
whose  introduction  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages  is  by  no  means  the  least  valu- 
able part  of  this  volume.  It  is  impossible  to  do  more  than  sketch  the  analysis  of 
Balzac's  philosophy  and  the  demonstration  so  successfully  attempted  by  Mr.  Par- 
sons  of  the  exact  correlation  between  many  of  Balzac's  speculations  and  the 
newest  scientific  theories.  The  introduction  is  so  closely  written  that  it  defies 
much  condensation,  it  is  so  intrinsically  valuable  that  it  will  thoroughly  repay 
careful  and  minute  study.  — From  "Light"  a  London  Journal  of  Psychical  and 
Occult  Research,  March  9,1889. 

♦ 

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"  Cousin  Pons"  "  The  Country  Doctor"  "  The  Two  Brothers"  "  The 
Alkahest"  " Modeste  Million"  "  The  Magic  Skin"  "Cousin  Bette.,y 
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